


Hooked

by JupiterJoon



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Also a lot of sex education and life lessons, Angst, Attempts at squirting, Bathroom Sex, Bi Namjoon, Blow Jobs, Brief Violence, Broken Families, Broken Friendships, Cheating, Consensual, Discussions of sexuality, Exhibitionism, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Friends With Benefits, Grinding, Jeon Jungkook is a Good Friend, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope is a Little Shit, Kim Taehyung | V & Park Jimin are Best Friends, Light Dom/sub, Look we got a lot of sexuality here, One Night Stands, Panic Attacks, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, Smut, Straight Jimin like wow, Sub Kim Namjoon | RM, Switch Kim Namjoon | RM, Vaginal Fingering, ace taehyung, by a non-bts member, discussions of sexual history, gay hoseok, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-02-24 21:15:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 101,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22004569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JupiterJoon/pseuds/JupiterJoon
Summary: Your one-night stand goes better than you ever expected. But when it becomes a casual fling, you start to realize there is something about Namjoon that has you hooked, making you comfortable… and vulnerable. You try to push him away, but Namjoon isn’t letting go so easily.
Relationships: Kim Namjoon | RM/Original Female Character(s), Kim Namjoon | RM/Reader, Kim Seokjin | Jin/Reader
Comments: 197
Kudos: 428





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some people write smut then angst. Others write angst then smut. I present to you, a series of smutty angst.

Hands. His hands on your waist, the touch surprisingly light.

Voice. His voice in your ear. Asking if he could dance with you, so polite. Saying you’re fantastic. Asking if kissing is okay.

Tongue. Definitely his tongue. He tasted like champagne, even though you knew that couldn’t be at this club. He smelled like the earth. Rich taste and smell.

You don’t do this. At least, not anymore. You never go to clubs. You never dance with strangers. You sure as hell never make out with them.

Stand on a curb with them.

Hop in a cab with them.

“Where to?” The taxi driver’s raspy voice asks, again. The damp smell of cigarettes and your fumbling breaths fill the back of the cab. You scratch your fingers through your hair nervously. The fog from your gin and tonics ebbs away with each passing minute. Your memory is starting to piece itself together as the adrenaline is overtaken by nerves.

“I’ve never done this before,” you say, more to yourself than anyone in the car. You rub at the small space between your knee-high boots and the edge of your skirt. The backs of your thighs stick to the worn leather of the lumpy seat.

“Neither have I, actually,” the man next to you in the back of the cab says. You feel his gaze shift to you. When you turn to look, he snaps back ahead, cheeks hollowed out in feigned nonchalance. His features look much softer from the side. A button nose, bleach blond hair over a round face. But those lips, they still look just as plump. You want to lean over at bite them.

“Well, I have,” the taxi driver heaves with a burst of smoke. “So where are we going?”

Jimin had asked you-- no, told you-- that you were going clubbing tonight. It had been too long since you’d both gone out and thrown money at a bar and danced around a club. You would have declined, as always, but you needed it this week. Both of your part-time jobs were so bad you couldn’t figure out which to quit first. Your coworker had even commented on how “uptight” you seemed, a very inappropriate jab at your non-existent sex life.

So when someone finally approached you, you’d spun in his arms to find defined chest shifting under a loose, simple shirt, strong collarbones and plush, parted lips at eye level. The alcohol kept your spirits light, not focusing on how long it’d been since someone touched you, how it had been even longer since you weren’t the one instigating it. Laughing and dancing on the floor, you’d said fuck it.

Or more like, fuck him.

But now, thighs not even touching, both staring straight ahead, it’s as though your flustered half-hour of sucking face and grinding hadn’t even happened. 

“Shouldn’t we go to your house?” the man asks, breaking your concentration. You jump a bit, and he takes it as an offense. With a nervous, dimpled smile, he holds his hands up in defense. You curse yourself for being so fidgety. This isn’t like you. You’re usually staring down your partner, sizing them up, debating how far you could push them. But something in that kind smile, made your heart stutter, your words catch in your throat.

“I mean, wouldn’t you feel safer there?” He follows up when you don’t respond. God, you want to dig your thumbs into those dimples.

“If you’re a murderer, you could murder her anywhere,” the taxi driver butts in. “Some like their house, some like the thrill of someone else’s home. Last night, I saw this special on 48-hour mysteries that-“

Before this driver started speaking a prophecy for your night to come, you grip the headrest and lean forward to say, “Plaza Hills on fourth!”

You turn to the man again, smiling sheepishly. He smiles back just as shy, dimples even deeper, awkwardly staring at the door handle he’s picking at. Something flips in your stomach.

It’s cute. In the club, his eyes looked so fierce, hooded and lazy. Now, they disappeared into crescents from the rise of his cheeks. Handsome and cute. That’s what you crave. A man too nervous to look you in the eyes, but too beautiful for you to look away.

Your heart flutters again at your own assessment. Oh god. You sit back, clear your throat, and fold your hands in your lap like an idiot. You both trade glances, giggling a bit. But the giggles subside the closer you get to your door. You know what you should be doing right now. Leaning into his space, teasing touches, maybe some light or frustratingly deep kissing. But you can’t will your hands from where they are tucked in your lap.

Stumbling out of the taxi cab, you wish you’d had a few more shots before leaving. At your apartment, he waits patiently as you open the door. His fingers linger on your waist, tracing lightly over the high hem of your skirt. God, he knows what he’s doing. But you, after months (not to ever admit to yourself possibly years), you can barely fathom what to say at this moment, much less what to do with your own hands.

Oh, open the door. Duh.

Your shaky fingers tell you this is your chance to take it back. Decline and go back to the safety of your sexless bedroom and watch Netflix.

But you don’t want to. And by the way his fingers catch on the hem of your skirt as they trace a little lower down your thighs, he definitely doesn’t want to stop either.

When you smile over your shoulder as the door opens, his eyes tip up from where they’d been eyeing your waist, a smirk on his face. He has no shame in being caught. You snap your face forward again, cheeks heating.

 _Stop it,_ you tell yourself. _Your ass is great, there is no reason to be nervous that someone else appreciates it._ In fact, you’d had men on their knees begging you to back your ass up. Tied men to the bedpost and had them use their manners before allowing them to touch.

Now, you can’t even remember that girl, the one who dragged men into the house by their collars. As you nervously step over your threshold, the man crowding your back, you pray to god she reappears to give some pointers tonight.

Your living room is quiet, illuminated by patches of street lamps cutting between the blinds. You do a quick check of the place. You hadn’t imagined you’d be bringing someone home, so you couldn’t even remember the state you and your roommate had left it in after running in and out all week. Thank god your parents visited last weekend so it’s somewhat clean.

Oh god, your room. Is your room clean? Are your sheets clean?

During your crisis, the man appraises the same view with much less apprehension. His head bobs side to side as he checks out your space, hands in his pockets like you’d invited him over for a chat and not his dick.

It’s been so long, you have no idea how you even start this. Goddammit, you’ve lost it. All your mojo. Can he tell? Is that what he’s doing? Waiting for you to make a move? A man bouncing on his heels in your living room usually riles you up more, like he’s trapped in your web, but now, it’s nerve-wracking. A drink would really help. Is he thinking that, too? Is that why he keeps looking toward the kitchen?

Might as well be honest. “I feel… unbelievably sober right now,” you laugh dryly. 

The man laughs, a little too loud. He shrugs and takes a seat on your couch. He drums his fingers on the cushion, looking around. When he sees you still standing, he shoots back up, losing balance a bit. “Me, too.”

You try to hold in your exasperated sigh when he’s just as clueless. Weren’t you guys supposed to still be drunk enough to jump each other’s bones? Can’t he just do it for you? Your eyes dart to the kitchen again, wondering how much your roommate would kill you for sneaking into the peach soju.

“Um,” you shrug off your jacket, looking around. He takes off his jacket, too. Oh shit. What _do_ you do? Should you… chat first? Offer a glass of water? Shove your tongue back down his throat? He took his jacket off when you did. If you just throw your shirt off, maybe he’ll do the same. Like Simon Says.

Instead of any of those, you remain in place, both facing each other, two feet apart. Jacketless, at least. He cocks his head at you, a small crinkle between his eyebrows most likely from you staring at him in not-so-concealed panic.

He starts to hold his hand out then glares down at the gesture. He tucks it into his back pocket. You’d snuck your hands into those pockets on the dancefloor. You want to feel more of that ass. “What’s your name?”

You snap back up to his face. Seriously, did you just feel guilty for checking out a guy you brought over to _fuck?_ “I didn’t think I was supposed to tell you that,” you respond, wondering where your one night stand rules were coming from.

“Right… but I already know where you live. That seems a bit worse.” _Duh,_ you scold yourself. _Who the fuck is scared of ending up on Dateline but drags a_ _nameless hottie home?_

“Oh…” you cringe at your awkward laugh. “Right, well, what’s your name?”

“Joon.”

“Like the month?”

“No, like Namjoon. It’s Korean.”

“Oh, that’s, um, cool.” You smile, rubbing absently at your arm. He smiles back, dazzling teeth even in the dim lighting. In a rush, you don’t just tell him your name, but your _full name_.

But he laughs. The sound is so sweet, it sends butterflies in your stomach. “That’s cute,” he murmurs, stepping closer. You curse at the blush you feel on your cheeks. No one calls you cute. “I like the sound of it,” he closes his eyes, leaning in. Finally, fucking finally.

But he passes your lips to whisper your name in your ear, fingers ghosting up the sides of your arms in soft strokes. It’s a low husk that tickles your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. You almost keel over, hands reaching for his hips like the last time his mouth was so close.

And just like that, the air shifts. It’s charged with an electricity that triggers something in you. Something familiar, something you’ve craved for months but never bothered to take the steps to get close enough to. Something you desperately wanted, needed, from this man. Namjoon.

You take a deep breath and peer up at him. His dark eyes are hooded and wondering. You’d only seen a glimpse of them at your door. You need to say something, anything, to keep this going.

“Okay, yeah,” you breathe out. _Smooth_. Okay, maybe you weren’t completely back in working condition.

“Yeah?” he says quietly, mouth twitching into a small smile. At least he seems to be on the same train of thought.

You nod. He nods back.

You wait to see who will move first.

He drags you in, one hand on your ass while the other is firm on your back. With his hands back on you, your body acts on cue, remembering the motions. You sigh into his mouth, relieved that you remember how to do this part. This part’s easy.

No words. Just want.

You snake your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes as you open your mouth to him. His tongue feels soft on your bottom lip, and you welcome him in, tasting that sweetness again as you curl your fingers in his blonde hair. He grunts into your mouth when you scratch, the hand on your ass tightening. The trace of his firm hands over the curves of the body warms you and you pull him closer, confidence overtaking your hesitation. 

Latched together, you start pushing towards your room. Your legs slot in between his for balance, and you can feel his cock, already hard in his pants. Even against your thigh, you can tell how thick it is, growing firmer with each shuffle of your legs.

The thought of it has you teasing his tongue into your mouth to suck on it, eager to suck elsewhere. Namjoon stumbles a bit. He growls into your mouth when you start to smile, and it goes straight to your core.

“To the-” you gasp out in between kisses. 

He nips at your lip and your mind blanks for a second. You grab at his shoulders, reluctantly breaking from his kiss to see over his shoulder.

“To the right,” you mouth against his neck, hands clawing under his shirt. Namjoon glances over his shoulder as you nibble at his collar bone then guides you into the bedroom with a strong grip on your ass.

The dragging irks you. To be manhandled is not something you are used to. Once in the room, you shove off of him. He quirks a brow before you run your hands up his chest.

Placing your palms flat over his strong chest, you shove. He falls back onto your bed. Surprised eyes stare up with mild irritation at your retaliation.

You take a step back, slowing down a bit. You stare down at the man before you, long legs spread in front of him, cock pulling at the zipper of his jeans. You take a deep breath. You know this part. Teasing, tempting. It’s where you excel. He may be different than your usual fucks, but something about it challenges you. The nerves from before are gone, replaced by a competitive streak to get this man to submit to you.

You gently run your hands up the sides of your body, smirking as his eyes follow. Why not tease him and build up your own self-confidence at the same time, admiring yourself before him? He obediently stays on the bed. 

You let your hands run across your neck, pulling on the straps of your top before kneading at your breasts. You whine, a little embarrassed to be so bold, but don’t stop as you run your fingers under the line of your top. He goes to stand, but you wag a finger. 

But before you can pull your shirt off, he’s yanking you in between his legs. He takes a fistful of your hair as he stands. You suck in sharply at the sting.

He says nothing, just tilts your face side to side. Your breath catches at the smile creeping on his face at the shock you must have on yours. It’s deadly. The grip in your hair, the dark, hooded eyes peering down at you with that smirk make your knees weak. Without even speaking a word, he’s making you slip back into submission.

You’re bewildered, eyes searching his expression. This behavior isn’t what you expected from that shy smile in the cab. From the man who asked to touch you, to kiss you. Those hands that he’d stuffed in his pockets now laid claim to your body.

But you should have known from that smirk at your door, those eyes which didn’t waver when he was caught. The twist makes your thoughts jumbled, swallowing as he tilts you back by the grip in your hair, appraising you.

“Um, sorry,” you whisper. Did you just apologize in your own apartment? What are you even apologizing for?

“Everybody makes mistakes,” he chuckles quietly.

You give a dry laugh, a bit confused. Mistakes? You don’t make mistakes. You take control.

Or at least you usually do. Guiding you by the grip of your hair, Joon spins you around, and you find yourself on the bed while he stands above. And something about it doesn’t irk you anymore. Your whole body is warm. And when you roll over to see how he stands above you, completely flipping the scene, it goes straight to your core. It had been ages since you fucked someone. But how long had it been since you found someone worth fucking?

When Joon leans forward on both hands, crawling up in between your legs, you curse as your legs spread wider for him, your body betraying you as you feel the wetness between your thighs shift. He pauses to take the bottom of your shirt in his hands. He gazes up at you.

Checking in.

He was checking if you were okay with this. He’d checked in the living room. In the cab. In the club. For someone terrified of giving up control, he reassured you even as he towered over you.

Goddamn. If you weren’t sure before, you’re fucking soaked now.

Leaning in to give your bottom lip a nip, Joon pulls your top up and over your head. With his shirt rising up a bit, you see toned muscles and strong shoulders that match the arms you’ve already run your fingers over in the club. It’s then that you notice.

Your hands are shaking. Your heart is racing. And you realize you aren’t nervous about the fuck. You’re nervous that this man has you on your back. And you like it.

His chest rises and falls as he looks you over, and your so thankful you put on a real bra today. Even without the chaos of the club, the poor lighting, his smile beams. The dimples return and so does that boyish gaze. You take your chance to finally dig your fingers into those soft cheeks.

But he turns, biting your finger. Denying you access. And you whine.

You gasp at your own actions. Hold up. No one night stand is going to turn you into a sub. You’re just baffled by his perfectly aligned teeth and incredible arms just because it’s been a while. It’s only ever a good fuck if you make it so. You can’t trust that to a one night stand.

You wrap your arms around those shoulders, using them as leverage to throw yourself over him. Now that he’s back on his back, where you want him, your hands brace around the nape of his neck, bringing your mouths together again. You straddle his legs, pushing your hips down hard. He returned the motion, tugging your lower back to roll in time with his own hips.

He tries to push up but you press harder, biting at his lip. The aftertaste of something fruity twists with your own forgotten drinks but you could careless as your teeth clink and tongues twist. When he tries again, you giggle, digging your fingers into his biceps. He moans into your mouth and you drink it up.

The heels of your boots dig into your ass, but you don’t care. Not when his arms tug free and knead into your hips, digging under your skirt to roll your ass down harder. You try to still your hips, but he keeps a strong grip. You whimper as the rough material of his jeans rubs against your lace panties.

You realize what’s happening, that he’s quickly taking back control. Snapping the clasp of your bra, you toss it to the side. And you get the desired effect. His mouth hangs open, soaking in the new view of you sat on top of him. The roll of your hips has stopped. You smirk. This is how you like your men. Dazed and confused, under you.

“You want to fuck me?” you purr, hands running down his chest.

You reach for his own shirt and his stomach twitches. It takes a second for him to take his eyes off your body to realize what’s happening.

“I want you on your back...” Namjoon’s voice comes out gruff. He trails off in thought as he sits up to remove the shirt himself. It’s so swift, you start to tip backward off the bed.

But he catches you, kissing you over the edge of the bed. Your legs lock behind him to keep from falling over the edge of the bed. God, are his lips nice. They’re so firm and unrelenting. You kiss back, eyes closing just before he pulls away.

“Calling my name,” Namjoon finishes.

You shudder. He’s figured out the game you’re playing. And he’s made his decree. And damn you for almost nodding, part of your mind begging for him to put you in your place. 

That place which you thought was on top. But as the pads of his fingers run down your stomach and his thumb catches under the line of your panties, you think maybe you’re wrong.

Maybe you really, desperately need this man to fuck you into the mattress right now. However he wants. Because you are starting to think whatever he wants is exactly what you need.

Your fingers skate across his torso, everything you expected them to be through his shirt. Smooth skin that you still pictured as golden in the dim lighting of your room. He grabs your hands in his, pulling you into another kiss. You mold into one another, skin on skin. It feels natural, too natural for something you haven’t done in a long time, way too natural for a stranger. And everything feels… slow. The rush of the moment is gone while a gentle intimacy takes over both your actions. As your ankles lock behind him and his arms move to hold you closer, you sink into it. Your tongues languidly roll and your fingers scratch through his undercut.

As though sensing the same intimacy, Joon’s hands slide to your ass, under your thighs, and he hoists you in the air. You cling close with a shocked squeal as he plops you onto the pillows.

He settles between your legs again. “You looked fucking amazing in these boots,” he says, his voice is rough now, worn from kissing. He takes your ankle in his hand, holding your leg up high as he reaches for the zipper of your boot. He slowly unzips it, staring at your body the whole time. “Bet you’ll look amazing while I fuck you, too.”

Your fingers dig into the sheets as you try not to rub your legs together. “Oh, wow,” is all you can manage. The insecurity takes you off guard, and you duck your head.

Joon takes off your boots, kissing your shins and massaging the skin as he goes. Each press of his lips draws him closer to your core. Your breath hitches as he starts to spread your legs. You squirm with anticipation as he mouths and sucks at the meat of your thighs. But his pace is slow and practiced. It has you biting your lip to keep yourself from begging as he continues to mouth just above your panty line.

Finally, he runs his hands up to the tops of your thighs, the pads of his fingers firm as they roll over the muscles. He grips the bottom of your skirt, now bunched at your hips. “Up,” is all he says with a wink. You nod, raising your hips so he can pull it down.

“Good girl.”

Your heart jumps into your throat. No one, _no one_ has ever called you that in bed. Because you are not a good girl. Half of you squeals while the other half flares in rage at such a pet name. But as he goes to bring your knee over his shoulder the good girl inside of you wins, giggling a bit with glee.

You try to regain some composure when you realize you are naked and he’s still in his pants. You nod towards the impressive weight in his pants.

“Don’t forget yourself,” your voice comes out so much weaker than you expected. He gives a low chuckle, then undoes the button with both hands, pulling the zipper down and rising to pull the pants over his hips.

He plays rougher this time. He takes the back of your knee and hikes it on his shoulder, then crawls back to you. The stretch makes you feel exposed, his rough denim pants sliding against your thighs. But his cock, trapped in his briefs, presses against your core, and you can’t help but whimper when he nibbles just under your ear. His tongue licks across your neck, his hands dig into your flesh. You’re completely caged to the bed, consumed by him, and you want more.

He squeezes your ass again as he leaves sloppy kisses down your jaw, your neck, and over one of your nipples. He scissors the other between two fingers. You moan, unable to contain yourself as your back arches off the bed. He moans back as you run your nails down his back.

You search for anything to grab onto. He gives a firm suck, and your fingers lurch to his hair. He groans, fighting back again by twisting your other nipple. You continue to writhe beneath him, his hips rolling into you and you tugging at his hair, raking nails over his shoulder.

He moves down, kissing under your breasts, down your stomach. Each kiss is slow, appreciative again. The change in pace takes you by surprise as thumbs roll gently over your nipples.

You look down to find him staring up, watching your movements, attentive to each sound you make. You’re entranced at the way his plush lips worship the skin he touches, hand kneading your ass while the other helps him lower down your body, chin tucking into your panties as he kisses at your hip bones. He’s heading farther down, kissing at the crevice between your thigh and core.

“Wait,” you breathe tap his shoulder with your free foot. Damn, you sound too fucked out already. He glances up, his breath ghosting across your exposed core, and it’s tough to keep going. “You don’t have to do that.”

“What?” he asks, eyes genuinely surprised. His thumbs still on your nipples, but the stimulation still makes it unbearably hard to continue.

You swallow, the good girl in your screaming to shut the fuck up. “Like, isn’t a one night stand supposed to be just one and done?” More of these rules you are starting to realize you learned from romcoms.

Joon blinks a few times. “But I want to,” he finally says.

Your head falls back with a groan. “Fuck yes then,” the last sound ends in a gasp, Joon’s nose rubbing against your wet underwear, teasing himself for what’s to come. You bend up your other leg when he starts to roll the lace down your thighs. You take a deep breath in, closing your eyes. This is the farthest you’ve gone in a long time, and your face is burning at the intimacy. His breath over your folds sends a shiver up your spine, and you resist the urge to close your legs. You tell yourself you deserve this, that you need this.

“Ever since you wrapped your arms around me in that club, I’ve wanted to have you under me,” Joon sighs, lowering himself back down. “Kiss you everywhere,” he murmurs against your stomach. “Here,” Joon kisses your hip bone. “Here,” your inner thigh. “and here,” he kisses your mound. 

You bite your lip, trying to control the ridiculous smile on your face. He licks his own, before dropping his tongue down into your folds, licking a thick stripe up and down, around your sensitive pearl, just letting his tongue barely dip inside you before repeating the strokes again. You give up on clamping your teeth down, hips immediately bucking into his mouth, your body craving everything your mind is trying to reason with. His ministrations follow your gasps and cries while your hips follow the dip of his tongue and you cry out each time he flicks across your clit.

He’s working like it’s a skill needing honing, training himself to answer to your body based on your mewls and breathy whines. Your hips roll, following the pattern. Your hands twist in the sheets each time he begins again with the thick of his tongue weaving over your clit momentarily.

You’d never been tortured like this. Never seen a man enjoy pleasuring you more than shoving his own dick in.

“Fuck, please,” you’d never begged. Ever. 

But that’s all you want now.

“Joon,” you cry the next time he teases your clit. His tongue stutters over your most sensitive area, and you whine again.

“That was so sexy,” he mouths against you, lips rolling over your swollen clit. You whine, hoping he’ll do it again. And he does. Something coils quickly in your stomach. Almost too quickly. Your hips buck, and he sucks. 

“Fuck, Joon, please don’t-” You latch onto his hair and call out his name again and again as your orgasm cuts you off, your hips rolling greedily into his mouth and he takes it all, slurping lewdly like a man starved, grabbing at your ass to hold your face to him until your legs are shaking, hips jolting at the overstimulation. 

He reconnects your lips before you’ve even caught your breath. You eagerly kiss back, but your hands shove at the elastic of his briefs. He pushes back onto his knees, head rolling as he readies for a show. He hooks his thumbs in his waistband, dragging them down. You don’t even care how desperate you look as you keep focused on the top of his briefs as they dip lower and lower. 

You gulp, then gulp again as your mouth starts to water. It’s not what you were expecting. Sure, you’d felt it but… it’s thick. The shaft pushes against the fabric as it slides closer to the end, but he keeps on pushing down to reveal more and more, a vein peeking up from the underside. Your eyes dart up to his, which already watch you, taking in the way you get hungrier and hungrier.

When his cock finally releases from the confines of his pants, it bobs, the flushed tip leaking already, the slightest curve angling up.

You snap your mouth shut before you drool. How did you land such a first one night stand? You lick the corners of your mouth, wanting to taste the precum smeared against the red tip.

Joon fumbles with getting the rest of his pants down his legs while you kick off the panties hanging around one ankle. When he looks back, you can’t believe how you ended up with this again. His hair a mess from your handiwork, lips flushed from loving on you, body tensed and wanting _you_.

You, who usually has a man crying to cum at this point. Usually on your knees on top of him, covered in love bites.

But now it’s you holding your arms out, fingers brushing by his hip bones as you beckon him back down on top of you. He hikes up your knees with the crook of his elbow and scoots forward. The stretch in the back of your thigh is only a teaser for what’s to come. Before settling back, he reaches for one of the pillows behind you. He hikes you up off the bed, placing the pillow beneath you.

“A gentleman,” you giggle as he adjusts it and lowers you back down.

“I’ll be anything you want me to be,” he purrs. You shield your face, knowing you must be bright red. God, he’s everything you want right now. 

You let him do as he wishes, peeking between fingers. He rips open a condom, spitting the foil out as he rolls it down his length. It fits, wow. It gives you a little confidence for your own future.

Somehow, he manages to manhandle you and make you want it. The way his fingers claw at your skin before he presses kisses to the inside of your knee is a mix of pleasure. He’s too far out of reach to grab at anything. You grip onto the sheets around you, taking a deep breath as he rubs the tip against your folds. Part of you is scared you’ll cum again as soon as he puts it in.

You really are at his mercy in this position, knees hiked over his shoulders, body exposed, back arched on the pillow. And you love it. You close your eyes, focusing on the feeling of the head pushing passed your entrance. You can’t help but inhale deeply as the tip rubs against your walls, the girth stretching you out as he dips farther in. You grind your teeth, fingers twisting in the sheets.

“Relax.” Your eyes snap open. Joon stares down at you, holding his dick in one hand and arm wrapped around one of your calves with the other. “Breathe,” He orders, able to see your chest frozen in place. You took a deep breath and never let it out. 

You exhale, then inhale again. The press of his dick becomes a bit easier. He doesn’t abuse his position of control, slowly acclimating you to the thickness between his thighs. He kisses your knee again, hand moving to massage your hip bone. He pushes in, inch by inch. And as he goes, the stretch is torturous in the best way possible. As he fills you up, your orgasm hovers on edge.

Instead of pulling out, he readjusts. He swings his hips lightly, focusing on every expression of your face. When your jaw drops, you see his twitch a little, mesmerized. He takes both your legs over one shoulder, twisting your ankles, holding them together, and starts pumping into you, long and slow.

For everything you can’t see, you can feel. The soft definition of his stomach and the ribs of his chest roll up and off the back of your thighs before pressing in once more. The head of his cock dragging to the edge of your walls before nuzzling back. It’s slow, allowing you to paint the picture of his body working against yours. His jaw juts forward, eyebrows pinched, his grunts deep within his chest as he rocks.

You are whining before you can stop yourself. It’s insane. The angle pushes straight into your gspot without any stimulation to your clit. Each thrust, coming harder and harder, makes you think you’ll fall off the edge but not quite. You can’t figure out how to cope with it. Nothing to reach for, nothing to do to satiate the tip of your orgasm with each long stroke. It’s right on the edge of your orgasm like it’s about wash over you yet keeps stopping at the floodgates over and over again. 

“Feels good?” Joon husks. Your head bobs, a long groan falling from your lips, clawing for one of his knees near your side. He rocks harder, pulling out slow and knocking back in, you practically wailing. Joon groans back as he starts to rock faster, his fingers digging into your thighs. The slap of his hips against your thighs echoes in the room. The searing of the stretch is fading, being replaced with a dull ache as your body tries to accommodate just how deep he can reach.

There’s no way for you to grind into him, to stimulate yourself by rubbing your legs together. You actually feel your eyes prick with tears.

“Fuck, fuck,” you cry. You can’t take it. You rip open your legs, Joon immediately letting go when he feels your resistance. You shove him over with your feet against his chest. As he falls back, you clench around nothing, but you flip over fast, crawling on top of him.

“That was insane,” you huff, taking your turn to straddle Joon. He looks up at you, confused, but you feel righted. “Too insane,” you clarify, grabbing his face to pull to yours. 

As you wrap your hand around the base of his dick, he sits forward, watching you drop down on him. The stretch is welcomed this time. He grabs your waist to help, but you put your hands on his, guiding them back to your ass.

“Oh god damn,” Joon sighs into your neck. He kneads your ass, pulling your cheeks apart to help you grind easier. Your head falls back as you trade between pumping and grinding on his dick. Wet kisses press down your neck. You reach down to finally satisfy the coil in your stomach, rubbing against your clit as Joon’s dick presses against that perfect spot with each roll of your hips.

You cry out as your orgasm rips through you, mouth stuttering against Joon’s. Everything rushes over you. Joon grabbing the back of your neck, holding your forehead to his. His eyes staring up into yours as your body trembles on top of his. The sensation surges from your core, tingles around the nail marks on your ass, burning in your chest, tantalizing your nipples rubbing against Joon’s chest with each roll.

Even as your orgasm starts to fade, you already want more. You’re desperate to cum on his cock again, finally feeling the release of being filled so deep where fingers can’t reach, the sensation of someone else’s thrusts and attention that’s unpredictable when he’s pounding up into you, arms behind him for greater leverage.

You brace on his shoulders, crying out profanities as overstimulation sends you into an immediate third orgasm. Your fingers scrape over his scalp and tug at his hair, struggling to grip reality as pain and pleasure rip through you. Even without supporting yourself, your legs shake as Joon’s own hips become erratic. He reaches forward again, arms tugged around you, holding you to him as his breath catches in the nape of your neck. A long, guttural sound tears through his throat. You take over again to rock him through his orgasm. Eventually, his fingers start clawing at your back, begging you to stop.

You stall your swaying and press a light kiss to his temple. Falling back onto a pillow, you wince at the raw feeling of his dick pulling out. He rips off the condom and falls back next to you.

“Wow,” he breathes, slinging one arm behind his head.

“Yeah,” you agree. You are pretty sure the ceiling is spinning.

Both of your breathing starts to slow. The room now settles around you. The buzz of the alcohol is gone, suddenly thirsty. The heat from your bodies starts to be replaced by the autumn chill sneaking in through your windows. It reminds you of how naked you are, lying on top of your sheets. Your clothes lay in heaps around the edge of the bed. Your sheets are in total disarray. The musk still sits in the air, filling your nostrils with each deep inhale.

Neither of you speaks again for awhile. You’re not sure what to say next. 

You’re honestly not sure how long it will take for you to recover from this, mentally and physically.

“So, uh,” Joon begins. You roll your head towards him. He stares at the ceiling. Maybe it’s still spinning for him. “In the movies, they have sex and then it cuts to the morning. But I definitely don’t feel tired after that.”

You prop up on one elbow, grateful for a casual topic. And mildly surprised you aren’t the only one taking cues from Hallmark movies. “Yeah, how are they always falling asleep?”

“What do they do with this awkward time in between?” Joon’s eyebrows are furrowed, his cheeks sucked in from worry. You giggle, maybe still a bit high off your orgasm. These are his immediate thoughts after sex? His concern is kind of cute. He’s a lot cute.

“Not to ruin the mood…” you say, remembering something that you definitely should have asked an hour ago. “Are you clean?”

“So, not to sound anal...” He trails off and your heart jumps at the thought before you realize he means it _figuratively_. “But I get tested after every new sexual encounter,” Joon shrugs and your shoulders relax with relief. “My roommate is kinda psycho about sex health and education.”

You gasp, eyes darting towards your open door. “Oh my god, I hope my roommate isn’t home.” You flop back down. “He will never let me live this down.”

“He?” Joon’s voice cracks a bit.

“Don’t get weird,” you start. “It’s my brother’s old teammate. He had a space available. We get along well.”

“So you aren’t in love or some shit?”

You shake your head and feel your sweaty hair move across your neck. “No.”

“Good, I thought I walked into a cuckold film or something,” Joon looks legitimately relieved. You watch the tension melt from his face. Then something dawns on you.

“Can I ask why you know that term in the first place?”

Joon wipes a hand down his face, his mouth opening and closing. “Is it weird to say that’s my roommate’s fault, too?” he tries.

“Wow, some roommate,” you snort. You both giggle. The cold still stings your skin, but at least you feel a bit more comfortable now that you’ve made a few jokes. You let your eyes wander over his strong chest, lean figure, and the girth that lies between his thighs. 

“So, um, the awkwardness is gone. At least a little,” Joon turns to you. “So, I think maybe I should… go…” he fiddles with the sheets by his ear.

You deliberate. Should he go? Should he stay? Like he said, your romcom rule book skipped this part. One of you is always asleep and the other sneaks out in those films.

If it’s a hookup, he should go. It would only get weirder from here. It’s your first hookup. You can’t fuck it up.

You watch as he puts his clothes on. He’s methodical, taking great care with each article and that his outfit comes back together how he intended. You weren’t paying attention before, but now you can tell he has quite the aesthetic.

“You know, I really lucked out for my first hookup.”

Joon turns, a sly smile back on his face. Something in you instantly feels warm again. He leans over the bed, tilting his head forward to take in your form one last time. “I could say the same.” He glances up with that same fierce, hooded gaze. But as he leans in to place a kiss to your shoulder, his hand slips on a throw pillow, and you both squawk as his face smashes into you.

He cracks under his own cool façade, that shy smile popping out as he falls back and covers his face. You laugh, about to ask for a round two, when he says, “That was bad, sorry.” 

You think better of it.

“No, it’s fine, I liked it,” you shrug. You start to shuck the covers over you. Pajamas are too much of a hassle now.

Joon buckles his belt, adjusts his shirt one last time, and stands by the door. He pauses.

“Um, I don’t know if this is part of the hookup rules, but… could I get your number? Or, I don’t know, your twitter or something?” He asks, hands in his pockets.

You chew at your lip, wondering how well he can make out your features from where he stands in the doorway. One night stand is a one night stand. “I don’t have a twitter.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, totally, um, so-”

“So, I’ll give you my number,” you say before you can take it back. Why not? You can always just ignore him if you wake up tomorrow and don’t want to deal with it.

He beams, “Cool, cool.”

After you hear the front door close, you curl up tight in the covers, replaying what happened. Your cheeks are red as you recount just how you ended up begging for cock, which is quite possibly in the top 10 cocks of your life. Was this the new you? Or was it just him? You nuzzle deeper into your sheets. For now, at least you’d gotten laid.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't get over Namjoon, so you decide to get under someone else

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I want to remind you all that I write the OMLOY series I promise I LOVE Jin and I'm so sorry

The morning after, you wake in the very position you fell asleep in. You slept like a rock, body feeling restored, mind feeling refreshed.

As you roll over, your thighs ache. A smile creeps on your face at the long-lost yet familiar feeling. The sheets are a mess, the fitted sheet pulled off one corner and your comforter still crumpled near the end. You stretch out your limbs, for once stiff from overexertion and not a restless night of sleep. 

Damn, a dick does a girl good.

_Good girl._

Your eyes snap open at the recollection of Namjoon’s voice. Oh thank god, you remember his name. And you also remember his hands digging into the flesh of your thighs, the way he flipped you on your back, how he locked your legs over his shoulder and teased you until you begged.

With a groan, you cover your face. _What was that?_ You can’t remember the last time you let someone else take charge in the bedroom. In fact, you can’t remember the last time you slept with a man who wanted to.

 _You can’t remember the last time you even had sex_ , Jimin’s obnoxious voice answers your own thoughts. It was his excuse to try and drag you out last night. Well boy, did you have news for him.

Oh shit, you need to call Jimin. He had no idea you left the club. You’d been too wrapped up in the low rumble of his voice and deep dimples.

You feel around in the sheets for your phone. After checking the nightstand, you realize it’s still in your purse. Which, in an attempt to seem like a responsible, organized person, you’d hung up in the front hall.

You lug yourself out of bed, wincing a bit as you grab an oversized t-shirt. Even though your legs ache, your muscles feel relaxed. You smile and shake your head, still surprised you actually did something like that.

A one night stand.

“Have a nice night?” Your roommate grumbles from the kitchen as you walk in still smiling.

Spooked by his voice, you whirl, ready to answer. He has a hand held up to stop you.

“Rhetorical, your ‘nice night’ was on blast.”

The color drains from your face before rushing back, cheeks on fire. Your arms instinctively wrap around yourself, as though you can protect yourself from the embarrassment. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Kook.”

“What?” Jungkook asks, assessing your appearance with a toss of his bedhead clouding his view. “Feeling scarred? Like me? Didn’t even grace me with closing the door.”

“You could have closed the door!”

“And witnessed whatever made you sound like that?”

You choke.

“No thanks, listening to my sister fuck was enough trauma,” Jungkook sets his coffee down and goes to fill a glass of water. “Bet you’re pretty dehydrated.”

“Kook,” you say weakly as you sink into a stool, “for the hundredth time... just because you followed my stepbrother around like a puppy does not make you my brother, too.” 

Jungkook just continues to grimace while he fills the glass.

“I’m sorry…” you concede, sprawling out on the kitchen table. The cold stone top feels good against your burning cheeks. But when you close your eyes, you remember when Namjoon had grabbed you by the roots of your hair. You’d stumbled out an apology, unsure what else to say. You giggle again like an idiot.

“Oh god, stop, it’s over. I don’t want to relive it,” Jungkook groans as he slides you the cup. He plops down next to you, feet tucked up in his chair. He gives a big yawn before taking another sip of his opaque coffee.

“I want to,” you reminisce. When Jungkook wretches, you stick your tongue out at him.

“Oh shit!” You jump up, sloshing the water. Your phone, the whole reason you came out here.

“For fuck’s sake, put pants on!” Jungkook wails, covering his face when your hop off the stool sends your shirt up over your ass.

You cough, pulling the t-shirt back down. Dashing to your purse, you dig around for the phone.

You have a missed call and two texts from Jimin. Shit.

“Hey,” you start when he answers.

“I am SO SORRY!” A crackling voice shouts back at you. His remorse takes you off guard. 

“...Why?” You wander into your living room and sit on the couch. Shouldn’t you be the one apologizing for ditching him at the club?

“Do not get your slut juice all over my furniture,” Jungkook calls. You chuck a pillow backward in his general direction.

“I promise I looked for you but couldn’t find you anywhere!” Jimin continues. “I promise it was worth it, though. The girl, or should I say woman because was she ever-”

“Wait, you went home with someone?” You cut him off, checking the time. Noon. Damn, it’s been so long since you’ve slept this late. No wonder Jungkook is already up.

“Wait… you didn’t realize I was gone?” You can hear the gears turning through the phone. “Did you _actually_ go home with someone?”

Someone on the other end gruffles. “Sorry, sorry,” Jimin says quietly.

“Did you pick up the phone while you’re still with her? Rude,” you scold.

Jimin’s tinkling laugh comes through the phone. “Excuse me, we are not changing the subject. Where’s your guy?”

“He went home last night.”

“He wasn’t good?”

You blink. That wasn’t Jimin’s voice. “Are you in bed with Taehyung?”

“Do not change the subject,” Taehyung retorts, voice croaky with sleep.

“You know he doesn’t like to sleep alone, don’t. Change. The. Subject,” Jimin urges. “Tell me, tell me, tell me.”

“We fucked and he left,” you say.

“He wasn’t good?” Taehyung repeats.

“Trust me, it was traumatic!” Jungkook shouts from just behind you on the couch.

You hold the phone away from you, glaring at Jungkook who fixes you with a look that says _What, tell me I’m wrong_.

“Then _why_ did you send him home?” Jimin shouts back.

“Isn’t that,” you clear your throat, “isn’t that how one night stands work?”

“Did you learn how to date from a Lifetime movie?” Jimin huffs into the phone. “Nothing says you have to send him home.”

“I gave him my number at least!” You defend yourself.

“Oh, so it was _that_ good,” Jimin changes tone.

“Goodbye, enjoy your sex partner,” you say.

“For the last time, Taehyung and I are—” cut him off and toss the phone aside.

When the call screen closes out, you can’t help but check the notifications on your phone.

There are a few texts waiting in your inbox.

You’d given him your number, but you hadn’t gotten his. Trying to play it cool, not too eager, not too… who knows. Honestly, you don’t know if you want to talk again. See him again. He saw a side of you very, very few people had seen.

A side of you that is causing a lot of questions to boil up now that you are coming to your senses.

You press your hands over your cheeks. He’d dominated you. You, who usually had all the control. Usually on top. Usually having men’s eyes pricking with tears at your commands.

But this guy, Namjoon, had you literally pinned, writhing beneath him, _loving_ it.

Begging for it.

You rub the palms of your hands into your eyes. Holy shit, what had happened to you?

“Just check your phone.”

You jump and Jungkook is still leaning over the couch watching you.

“Fine,” you shrug, trying to not jump for it.

There’s a text from an unknown number.

Holding your breath, you open it up.

Xxx-xxx-xxxx

_This is a reminder that you need to schedule your annual dentist appointment! Answer YES_

_to schedule or NO to be reminded at a later date._

You put the phone back down.

“See, it was just a one-time thing,” you say to Jungkook but more to yourself. But it hurts a bit. Really, you aren’t sure if you wanted him to text you, but it would have been nice if you knew he wanted to text you.

“I guess so,” Jungkook shoves off the couch and goes back to his creamer with coffee.

“Make me one?” You ask, settling back into the sofa.

“Only if you put pants on,” Jungkook compromises. You hook your arm over the couch to argue, but he’s already walking towards the coffee pot.

You smile fondly at his back while he takes one of your thermoses down from the cabinet. You’d really lucked out when you moved to this city. You, Jungkook, you’re your brother had all grown up together. It already felt like home when you moved in with him.

With a sigh, you head back to your room. You pull open WaggleWalkers, your dog walking app, ready to start your weekend routine.

Besides working two part-time jobs to equal one full-time load, you also dog-walk on weekends. It helps with the extra funds you need when neither job provides any kind of benefits.

Such is the life of someone on a rather lengthy break from college.

Saturdays are always easy money. No hungover person wants to walk their dog on a sunny, breezy morning. Even though you started late, you know you’ll get the walks for people who forgot to request one last night.

Rifling through your clothes, you blush to find your tossed garments still littered in the room. You remember how he’d taken your boots off, kissing down your shins, relishing each touch…

You shake the thoughts from your mind. But then your eye catches on something.

Two black socks.

You pick them up, holding them at arm’s length. They are shaped from wear into feet much larger than your own. 

The one-night-stand guy. He left his socks? You scoff. He didn’t bother to text you or grab his socks.

Unless…

You shake your head, tossing the socks into a corner. No guy leaves his socks as an excuse to come back over. You shoo the possibility from your mind by imagining Namjoon skipping home sockless after how he meticulously put his outfit back together.

Once dressed for a day of puppy love and leash tugging, coffee in hand, you start searching out last-minute requests in the appointment tab of the dog-walking app. 

Jungkook’s already trapped himself in his room again to start his own hourly wages. You glare at his door, knowing he’s making hundreds daily just from competitive online gaming. He gets paid more to sit in a chair and press buttons than you do servicing the front desk of a law firm.

Luckily, there is an available walk not too far from you now. A little paw print blinks in a square not too far from your own home. You put in a request to walk and receive an approval within the minute. 

You grin, feeling as though you’ve won a prize. You’ve got enough reviews to always be the first accepted when applying. The adorable profile for a furry snowball pops up, the name Monie framed in a pawprint underneath.

“I’m off!” you call in the direction of Jungkook’s room. All you hear in return is the clicking of keys and firing of weapons. Rolling your eyes, you’re out the door.

Surprisingly, you aren’t that hungover. A blessing, as you choose to walk to the house rather than drive.

A curse, because your mind continues to race with thoughts of last night. You seriously asked him if he was named after a month. What kind of small talk is that? You’d stood around like a fucking idiot. He’d… he’d clamped your legs together and fucked into you while you couldn’t even reach your clit but it felt so good… just like when he called you a good girl.

You blush for an entirely different reason, rubbing at your cheeks.

Then you stop, marching forward.

You are not a good girl, you tell yourself. No one makes you a good girl. You’re a woman, and you fuck good boys.

But how did he?

You stop again. Did he have some power to turn any woman into a sub? You are not a sub.

At least, you weren’t up until now. It had been months, many, many months that you don’t want to admit to since you’d had sex. Is this… what you attracted now? Did you seem like that kind of woman? Is this what you wanted now?

Your phone beeps to tell you you’ve reached your destination. It’s a cute little townhouse near center city, which is actually a hard location to score. You envy the job that allowed the owner to live here. He probably had some generic degree unrelated to his field and scored big. All you needed in today’s market was a degree to finagle your way into a nice cushy analyst job or something.

Scanning your phone next to the lockbox, you walk inside. A furry little snowball trots on up to you, tail and tongue wagging with each step.

“Awh, hello!” you coo, crouching to your knees. The dog jogs faster, nuzzling into your outstretched hands.

Oh thank god, you think. An easy one. Even weeks later, you can’t shake the memory of the out-of-control boxer mix that dragged you three miles through suburbia. You welcomed the gentle wet nose that sniffed up your arms and legs.

“Yes, somebody’s ready for a walk!” you whisper, just in case the owner is hungover in the house somewhere. The dog’s head shoots up, kissing your face. “Oh, we like that word? Walk!” You giggle as the dog jumps a bit, trying to bury you in kisses. “You’re the sweetest,” you coo, scratching behind the ears.

You easily locate the harness, clip Monie in, and head out the door. He’s an easy walker, sniffing every now and then. As you start the timer for the walk, you shoot the owner a text. The company wasn’t high tech enough to give you all hidden numbers, but at least they provided a level of privacy by keeping it a secret until the interaction happened.

You

_Hi! I’m out with Monie now!_

The text back is immediate.

Xxx-xxx-xxx

_what_

You roll your eyes. Probably another drunk yuppie who ordered the walk before he passed out and is now wondering who nabbed his dog.

You

_This is your WaggleWalker. I answered your request for a 30 minute walk for Monie_

_I just picked him up and we are out getting some sniffs!_

Xxx-xxx-xxx

_Ur my petsitter_

You huff, shoving your phone in your pocket for a bit as you and Monie cross the street and you deter him from a squirrel chase.

You

_Yes, I am!_

_Is there an issue? would you like me to bring Monie back?_

The glory of texting is you only have to fake your tone of customer service, rather than school your face as you grumble at the device.

Xxx-xxx-xxxx

_No_

_No u dont need to_

_Uh thanks_

You

_Np :)_

A smiley, just for the hopes of return service.

“Alright!” You direct at the dog as you step into one of the many parks scattered between complexes. “So, Monie…” You trail off, staring at the dog who cocks his head back at you. He cocks his head the other way, looking puzzled.

“Is that not right?” You ask. “Moh-nee? Mah-nee?” You crouch down, scratching behind his ears. Your hand sinks deep into the fluffy white coat. “Moh-nay? Are you a fancy boy? Yes! Monie is a good boy!”

_Good girl._

Your hands pause in the dog’s hair.

Is this going to happen all day long? Your mind triggered by any relation to the man?

You tousle the dog’s mane a bit more than stand. No, that’s fine. You got dick. You should enjoy the dick. Let the memories come, enjoy them, get over them, get more dick. You know this pattern.

It’s just been a while.

A long while.

As you walk the big fluffer around the park, the sunshine feels warmer on your skin. Your thoughts feel lighter, drifting with the breeze that comes and goes between the trees. You can’t help but smile to yourself when you remember the man’s face, plush lips parted, body rolling into your thighs as he pumped into you.

You got fucked and fucked good. You honestly feel kind of surprised at how carefree you do feel about sleeping with a stranger. Regardless, you’re back in the game. No reason to be bogged down by concerns of who exactly you are back in the game. Next time Jimin asks to go out, you’ll say yes. You’ll fuck another guy or girl or whoever and see where things go. 

* * *

By the end of the week, you think you’ve moved on. But then, you find yourself over-analyzing the hookup.

He’d kissed your neck, your chest, your hips. But you wish you’d tasted more of his skin. Bitten into those thick thighs. Watched the red welts follow your fingernails and then kissed them better. 

You wanted to see his expression as he came. Hold him down to the bed so you could watch him as he had you. Remember the sound of his grunts made your heart jump. Did his jaw drop open in an ‘o’? Would he scrunch those pretty eyebrows?

You should have pulled on fistfuls of his bleach blonde hair and sucked on his tongue until he begged you to suck his cock, only to put him on his back and ride his face.

But what you can’t get over is the flicker that danced behind his eyes after the nerves wore away. How soft his smile was, so shy when he’d leaned in to kiss you goodbye.

It didn’t make sense. He’d looked so different from the man on the dancefloor or the one between your thighs. You wanted to know more about him.

Sure, it seems… pathetic. That you’ve thought about him maybe every other hour for a week. But it’s the only thing your mind can grab onto. You used to get dick for days. And now, nothing for so long, it’s all you can think about. You want more of him.

 _No,_ you told yourself, _you don’t want more of him. Just more_. You knew what you were getting into. And this is what you needed. You are not turning your first one night stand into a “thing.”

Namjoon never texts you. And you know that, because you may be checking your phone every few hours for an unknown number. For almost a week.

By the end of the week, you’re at a loss. Even the porn you watch has you thinking about him, and you know this _isn’t_ how a one night stand should work.

You’ve gone from yearning to straight aggravation.

Because each night that you go home to the same bed, your mind whirls with how everything had happened. Each move you and he had made.

Your mind constantly whirls from loving how he fucked you to wanting a chance to fuck him back. You bounce from wanting to have his cock in your mouth, wondering what he’d look like if you edged him, to going on lunch break and coming back wanting him to rub your face into the sheets as he spanked your ass and told you to take it.

And you can’t get over the fact that in the situation, you’d caved so fast. Would you do it again with him? With anyone?

You are having an identity crisis.

Sitting at the secretary’s desk of one of your part-time jobs, you nibble at the end of a pen, legs crossed. Is this the new you? You’d been in a sexual drought so long that your very persona has changed? No longer the dominating woman in the bedroom, but some _good girl_ who blushes when a man is between her thighs?

You recross your legs, too enveloped in your fantasy for 3 pm. You check your phone, like the pathetic bitch you are. Maybe he’s playing a waiting game, dropped his phone in a toilet, left it somewhere like he did his socks. 

“You gonna suck that pen all afternoon or are we going to get lunch?”

You nearly shove the pen down your throat in surprise. The fleeting thought of shoving Namjoon’s cock down your throat flits through before Jimin’s disapproving expression crowds your view.

“I got you this job, don’t make me look bad by blowing all the pens,” he teases, wagging a finger. You smart at him, standing to gather your things.

The small cafe adjacent to your office building is bustling with other office workers on their breaks. There’s the clatter of trays, small talk, and the occasional burst of laughter. Yet all of it doesn’t seem loud enough to drown out your thoughts. So, you confide in Jimin and Taehyung.

“That’s not how one night stands work,” Jimin confirms, stirring his macchiato. Taehyung sits patiently next to him, hand playing with Jimin’s hair. Jimin sends him a soft smile when he begins scratching through his scalp. “He probably only got your number to be polite.”

“I know,” you moan, collapsing onto the cafe table. You scratch at your own head. “I can’t stop thinking about him though!”

Jimin rolls his eyes, slurping his drink. “That’s the _point_. You hookup. It keeps you occupied for a bit. You go out and prowl again.”

Taehyung nods, frowning in solitude. “It’s a one and done, sweetheart.”

“But I want it again,” you rub your face into the table. Even this morning, you woke up imagining him hungry between your thighs. And you have to admit it to yourself. After two weeks of only thinking of him. “I want him again. It was so fucking good.”

 _It was so fucking good in a way I didn’t think possible, and I need to know what it is about him that makes it that way_ , you add to yourself. You and Jimin may be close, as one of Jungkook’s closest friends, but you are not _that_ close. 

“No,” Jimin jabs the spoon at you. “You don’t want him. You liked it. It’s been god knows how long since you’ve seen a dick” -you sit up to glare at Jimin- “so enjoy the memories, and when they fade, find someone else.” 

Taehyung nudges your foot. “Not to like, totally stick my nose in your sex life,” he starts, letting you know he is definitely about to, “but… why are you so hung up on this?”

You look away, worrying you are going to blush.

Jimin chews at his straw. “Taehyungie has a point. It’s not like you never got dick before. Why are you being so adamant about this guy?”

When you say nothing, Jimin sighs, throwing himself back in his chair. “You are going to sit there and act like you are not in a position to talk about dick all day when I’m the reason you got laid?”

You snort. Fair point. “He domm’ed me.”

“Hot,” Jimin answers immediately.

Taehyung, whose brain is [frequently unoccupied with sex], let’s out a long sound of realization. “Hobi said you’re a dom.”

You glare at him. “You and Hobi talk about my sex life?”

Taehyung shrugs, absently playing with Jimin’s fingers on the table. Jimin crooks an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. You debate it, but remember these are the closest things you have to friends around here besides Jungkook. And lord knows Jungkook would shove his fingers in his ears shouting “La la la” if you brought this up.

“Okay, look,” you sigh. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had sex with a guy.”

“Like, two years,” Jimin clarifies with painfully accurate estimations.

“Thank you, Jimin. I was… worried. Worried that I wouldn’t be good anymore. That I’d lost my touch. Or that I’d changed. And I don’t know if I’d like that. And then I hooked up with this guy and he totally dommed me and now I don’t know. I liked it, but did I like it? Is like, that part lost to me now?” You finish shredding the label on your coffee while you wait for someone to respond. When no one does, you glance up.

“Girl, the fuck you mean?” Jimin finally says. “Is being a dominatrix require some kind of regular certification process?”

You blush. You know you sound like an idiot.

“What’s so bad about being a switch anyways?” Taehyung adds.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Anything you could think to say sounds stupid. Maybe because the one thing you want to say is what you definitely don’t want to admit. _Something about this guy is special_.

“I guess you’re right,” you grumble, sucking down the last dregs of your coffee.

Jimin takes your cups, signaling the end of the break. You’re thankful for the excuse to end the conversation. 

“Wait,” Jimin grabs you and Taehyung’s arms as you exit the shop. “I have the perfect solution. You need another one night stand.”

“Another?”

“Yeah,” he says like it should be obvious. You’re relieved Taehyung also seems to find this advice subpar. Jimin trots forward, smile smug like he’s solved the issue. “A one night stand is supposed to tide you over. The problem is, your first one was too good. It’s also the _only_ one night stand you’ve had. And he apparently rocked your world so hard you’re having an identity crisis. You just need to hook up with someone else.” 

You blink. He has a good reason there, and Taehyung nods along again.

One man was not going to hold this over you. You’ll go out and find another guy and try out this out. Maybe it was time to branch out. Maybe you’d become a switch. And what’s wrong with getting some more dick now that you’re back in the game?

“They do say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone,” you grumble.

Jimin nods in approval as you both wave goodbye to Taehyung.

You’ll have more to compare to it and more than one man to think about.

Instead of obsessing.

Because you are definitely obsessing.

And you know what? Fuck it. Sub it up, see what it’s like to let a man win for a change. You’ll offer it up on a fucking platter.

And that’s how you end up back at the same club two weeks later, telling yourself you did not come back here just to find the same man. You are definitely only here because the club is clearly a good luck charm for you.

There’s an insane amount of people tonight. The club rotated DJs, and tonight’s must be well known. You waltz up to the bar and down three shots, to Jungkook’s horror and Jimin and Taehyung’s cheers.

“Can you handle yourself?” Jungkook shouts over the music.

“Stop babying me,” you sass, giving him a firm pat on the ass.

“Yeah!” Jimin calls out, already on Taehyung’s arm to pull him to the dance floor. “How about you go get yourself laid before you end up with some holographic girlfriend, gamer boy.”

Jungkook’s cheeks turn red as he pouts, staying at the bar while the three of you wander onto the floor. 

The songs are good, remixes of the top 40, and it’s easy to lose yourself as you spin and sway to the beat, jumping up and down and looking for Taehyung to scream when one of your favorite songs come on.

The alcohol warms your skin and blurs your mind, letting you bounce loosely in Taehyung’s grasp as he spins you around and holds you close. Eventually, Jimin pulls him away for his own dance so your left bumping to the beat on your own. You close your eyes every now and again, enjoying the flash of red and blue lights and the feel of the bass thumping in your chest.

A hand lands on your waist. Your heart catches, remembering how Namjoon had done the same. You wait for someone to whisper in your ear, but instead, someone’s uneven hips jar against yours. You stumble forward a bit, but the person’s grasp keeps you upright. You spin, and a sloppy, definitely-not-your-one-night-stand guy smiles blearily at you.

“Hey,” he says, fingers clingy when you pull out of his arms. 

“No,” you respond, shaking your head for emphasis. He reaches for your arm.

“Come on, just dance,” he mouths, voice too low in the crowd.

You wrench your arm away. “I said no.” The man attempts a retort along the lines of “don’t overreact,” so you make your way to the bar. You roll your shoulders, trying to get the bad vibes off your back.

Typical. This is the typical experience you expect, why you stopped going to clubs. Grubby drunk guys grabbing at you like your just a warm body to rub against. Your motivation starts to wane, expecting tonight to be a bust.

You lean on the counter, trying to get the attention of one of the four busty women behind the bar. Your drunken gaze betrays you, lingering too long on a waitress bent over to pour soda water into some purple drink. Maybe you should try for a woman instead. But you don’t want to be that creep who hits on a bartender who is only going to be nice back for a tip. You hang your head, ready to give up.

“What would you like, rum or vodka?” someone shouts next to you.

You startle, feeling caught. The owner of the voice is tall, you can tell even as he eases back on the counter. He smiles down at you, soft cheeks contrasting with strong eyebrows. 

“If you want gin, it’s right here.” The man points a finger at his face, scooting closer once he has your attention. You furrow your brows, and his expression falters. “It’s me. I’m Jin. Hi, I’m Jin.”

The bad pick-up line has you laughing in embarrassment for his corniness.

“Hi, Jin,” you say, leaning towards the man’s ear. “I’ll take whatever you’re having.”

Jin’s smile grows as he flags down the woman you were staring at. You can’t help giving her one last glance over, the tight pleather skirt stretching over thick thighs as she squats to grab something under the counter. When you look back at your drink-buyer, he’s already looking at you.

“I watched you dance.”

You take the drink, smiling at the woman. Her returning smile is mischievous, sending a tacit look when her eyes dart to the man. She’s clearly not into you but she’s letting you know he is. Why not roll with it? He was kind enough to get you a drink.

“Why didn’t you say something?” you ask, raising the drink to him before you take a sip.

Oh god, tequila and lime. Exactly what you need to get in the mood.

“I’m a bad dancer, but I’ve got a great face, so I do better at the bar,” Jin shrugs. You almost choke on your drink at his blatant confidence.

“Oh really?” You appraise him.“The bar seems easier to me, too. Less sweat.”

He laughs and turns to face the counter with you, spinning his drink and twirling the straw. He’s nervous.

He’s also hot. Like, how-did-I-pull-this kind of hot. His bangs brush over dark eyes that sparkle in the neon lights. When he swallows the liquor, his adam’s apple bobs, protruding from a strong neck. And those shoulders, you want to grab onto those shoulders. Even in an oversized button-up, you can’t tell you could grip onto them and dig your nails in as he fucked into you. As your gaze travels farther down, his jeans show off strong legs that don’t seem to end.

When he gives you a smile, plush pink lips spread over white teeth, eyes crinkling.

He’s not hot. He’s fucking gorgeous. And he’s nervous around _you_. Damn, he’s the whole deal and then some, just waiting for you to make a move.

But you won’t.

That’s not what you’re doing. You’re trying this new thing out. This whole, let-the-guy-do-his-thing thing.

So you don’t run your hand across those broad shoulders and nip at those cute red ears. You clear your throat, even though he can’t hear it. You occupy your fingers by drumming on the sticky surface of the bar. You try to think of something to say besides “come home with me.”

You eye the clear liquid in your cup, then toss it all back at once.

“Tequila causes nothing but trouble,” you tease hoarsely, the sting burning your throat as you smack the glass back on the bar.

Jin gives you a concerned expression, probably worried you chugged your drink to get away.

Maybe you need some work on this whole dating thing.

You slide your fingers over his. Eager for something to click. This is a simple girly thing to do, right?

It works, and Jin turns his hand over, fingers twitching as you draw circles in his palm. You drag your fingertips over his, and he snares your hand.

You look up, the buzz from your chug already kicking in. His eyes are darker, lids set low, the smile slipped from his face. He cocks an eyebrow, so you just nod.

He orders two more drinks, then you head to one of the high-tables. Standing shoulder to shoulder watching the throng of bodies shift on the dancefloor, you both exchange a few more lines about work. Of course, he’s a businessman, managing the floor of a local hotel. You list off one or two of your jobs, using the excuse you don’t want to talk about work.

“What do you want to talk about?” Jin asks, twirling the straw in his empty glass.

“If we’re going to my place or yours,” it slips out much more naturally now that you’ve gotten comfortable with the man. It’s late, and you are ready to go.

So that’s how you end up stumbling through your living room again, releasing from the man’s hold to double-check Jungkook’s shoes aren’t at the entrance. You bypass hanging up your purse, opting to throw off your bag and jacket as you busy yourself with the incredibly attractive guest.

Your fingers thread through Jin’s hair, tugging gently. Each breathy moan he gives between the slide of your lips eggs you on, licking into his mouth to capture them all. He follows blindly as you lead him to your bedroom.

Wait.

You stop. You want him to be leading _you_. You aren’t going to take control. You’re going to let someone else do it. Like Namjoon did.

But Jin stops, too. He simply holds you, hands loose on your hips, waiting for your move. You grip the collar of his shirt, leaning back into the wall and dragging him with you, hoping he’ll press you back into it.

But he doesn’t. He mouths at your neck, reaching for the underside of your shirt only once you do the same to him. You stretch the shirt over his head.

And wow. Okay, this is some competition to get rid of your lingering thoughts. His chest dips and curves into hips, toned muscles from a controlled routine under soft skin. He shivers when you run your hands over his ribs. The feel of his body quivering underneath you has you smirking, ready to pin him to your-

No, wait. Wait. You’re trying out the sub thing.

“Is, uh, is everything okay?” Jin asks. Your hands had paused on his collarbone, his own still under your shirt. His dark eyes sparkle in the dim light of your room. Large and doe-eyed, filled with wonder.

“Yeah, yeah,” you breathe, fingers tracing over the grooves of his clavicles.

Jin takes a step back, plopping onto your bed. He cocks his head, exposing his neck. “How do you want me?”

Something warm stirs low in your belly and you bite back the smile. Damn, he’d probably do anything you ask. And the things you want to ask him...

His body language, his expression. Everything is screaming at your instincts to take charge.

Why is it turning out this way? And why… why are you disappointed? An obnoxious little voice you’ve been keeping at bay all week whispers again.

 _Because it means maybe it’s not about being dommed, maybe it’s about Namjoon_.

Dammit.

“Are we… good?” Jin checks again. You feel a bit bad, that your stalling is making him question this. 

With a deep breath, you stand between Jin’s spread legs. You take your shirt off in one motion, tossing the shirt behind him.

“Definitely,” you croon as you straddle his lap, pushing him back on the bed. He lets out a long breath, shaky hands coming up to your sides. You duck down to reconnect your lips. You try to enjoy how smooth and pliant they are, but your goddamn overthinking mind is elsewhere.

How the fuck did that guy get you whining while this one is… this one is under you like you want?

A competitive streak sparks in you. You don’t want that guy to have something over you. No. You refuse to let him win. You can do this. Jin can do this.

“I want you to fuck me,” you murmur against his lips. “Fuck me hard.”

“Oh,” Jin chuckles breathlessly. Your palms on his ribs can feel his heart pick up. “Oh, um, fuck, yeah, I can do that.”

“Can you?” You challenge, a smile pulling on your lips as you sit up. “Cause I want you to.” You roll your hips down, and Jin’s eyes flutter a bit.

“I need you to,” you whine. You knead over your breasts, pressing hard through the material, trying to egg him on.

Jin’s grip tightens, rolling your hips for you. You close your eyes, head lulling to the side from the friction. His free hand appreciates your exposed skin, unzipping the back of your skirt.

It’s too slow. The touches too light. You need a challenge. You want him to dig his fingers into your ass, twist your nipples between long fingers, buck his hips up into you.

“Fuck me, Jin,” you plea. “Please.”

Jin growls before he flips you over and cages you in. You can’t hide your smile, excited to get what you want.

But he places a chaste kiss to your shoulder, running his arms down your sides before he’s pulling off his pants and briefs. You watch for a second, then realize you’re supposed to be doing the same.

Your arm pauses, stretched over the bed to throw your skirt on the floor when he slips his briefs down his thighs. You can’t believe the size of his cock.

Now _that_ you can work with. You lick your lips at the sight. Jin fists loosely on his hard cock, the slow pace emphasizing just how long it takes to stroke from the flushed head to the base of his shaft.

That’s the challenge you are looking for.

“How do you want to do this?” He asks once you’re undressed. It gives you pause. It’s hard to draw your eyes away from the thick head of his cock, flushed the same color as his cheeks.

“How do I…?” Oh. He’s waiting for you to give the instructions. Again. No reading the situation, no sensual touches and kisses.

It’s a one night stand.

“Just uh, like this,” you demonstrate by rolling onto your hands and knees.

“Fuck, fuck that’s hot,” Jin muses, bouncing up to grab a condom out of his pocket. You stay there on your bed, in position. The monster between his thighs swings this way and that as he rummages through his jeans. My god, his cock is so thick it can’t even stand upright under its own weight. “Got it!”

You nod, not sure how to respond to the cutesy comment, immersed in the challenge that awaits you. He climbs onto the bed, rubbing circles into your ass.

“You have a gorgeous body,” he praises, leaning down to kiss between your shoulders. You feel his cock smack against your ass. The press of the head already feeling like it’ll be too much.

“Mm, feels like you have a gorgeous dick,” you mutter into the sheets, the length of it sliding down your whole ass as Jin scoots closer.

You close your eyes, trying to imagine the scene how you need to. You’re on your hands and knees. This is where you should be. He’s going to take control. He has to.

Jin’s hands glide down your sides, leaning down to place sloppy kisses over your spine before he leans back up. The press of his cock against your entrance has your fists tangling in the sheets.

“Let me know, okay?” He says, and before you can give the okay, a groan catches in your throat.

“Oh my god,” you whine, falling to your elbows.

The intense pressure stops. “Too much?”

Your head jerks over your shoulder. His face is laced with concern and he’s misread your cries. “No, put it in.”

“Oh, okay,” Jin mutters, cheeks blushing. A soft hand rubs over the small of your back. “Yeah, totally.”

He starts again, guiding your body lower with a hand on your hip. Your knees spread wider against the sheets, trying to accommodate the stretch. You hold your breath as you feel it push deeper and deeper.

 _Breathe_ , Namjoon’s voice tells you.

“Fucking hell,” you groan, more so at the obnoxious voice in your head. Jin slows, giving small rolls of his hips as he bottoms out, making your mind go blank. Everything feels on the edge. You might rip in two, but your orgasm might rip through you before that, just from the pressure and the stretch.

Tears build in the corner of your eyes when he pulls back before cautiously pushing back in. His moans are soft, almost melodic, punctuating staggered breaths. You gurgle out something, some kind of praise.

Okay, this is it. Pressed into the sheets, filled with cock. You can get with this. You can be like this with another man, it’s definitely not just Namjoon.

“Ready?” he asks. Something about the way he says it makes you want to add “Set, go!” But you hold it in. You simply nod into the sheets.

He pulls back and thrusts hard, his hips smacking your ass with an audible clap. Again and again. You cry out, wrenching your sheets up.

“You’re fucking huge,” you whine, syllables stuttered by thrusts. The pain mixes with pleasure. You can feel the drool pooling on your tongue. Fuck yes.

“You take it so well,” he grunts out, pounding in harder. Your body shifts up the bed, and you brace your palms to the headboard for leverage.

The few words of dirty talk have your heart racing. But you need more. The stretch, the pain, the pleasure, you can feel that you’re close but not close enough. 

“Call me a good girl,” you moan, sliding a hand between your thighs.

Jin bends over, and you can hear his breathing in your ear. He mouths across your neck, your ear, and you can smell the tequila on his breath. “Good girl,” he pants.

But it’s not the same. You fiercely rub at your clit, desperate to get off before your mind conjures up the voice you know will send shivers down your spine again.

“Fuck, are you close?” he says after a few minutes of thrusting. He’s dragging your hips to meet his cock with each thrust. You’ve dropped to the bed, the arch of your back taking him as deep as possible.

You nod, speeding up your own hand to ensure that you will be close soon enough. Jin groans. “That’s so hot,” he grunts, and you whine in agreement. He keeps thrusting. “I’m so close watching you like that.”

You nod again, rubbing harder and harder. His dick fills you up, and it isn’t hard to get yourself close to the edge now.

“Gonna come,” you call out when his hips start to stutter. Jin groans back, pumping in harder. Your wrist starts to ache, rubbing fast in time with his thrusts. Now you just want the release, need it, need to know someone else could make you come hard with your face buried in your sheets.

Finally, Jin readjusts his position on your hips and dips your back. He hits that perfect spot and your body shudders, fingers slowing as his cock pounds into your g-spot, fucking you through your orgasm. You fall into the sheets, neck aching from the bend but relishing the release. When your cries simmer down, Jin’s hips become erratic, and with a soft whine, he cums, body slouching onto yours.

“Whew,” he says a little too casually, and it makes you giggle.

When he pulls out and flops onto the mattress, you roll over. His arm is thrown over his face, tongue wetting his lips, chest rising and falling steadily. It looks like it took more out of him than it did you.

“Whew,” you finally say back. It’s a bit teasing. You felt the need to fill the air with something other than your heavy breaths.

Jin drops his arm, giving your thigh a squeeze with a light smile that makes his eyes crinkle. 

“That was great,” he says, smile growing and teeth dazzling even in the dark of your room.

“Yeah, definitely,” you follow up. As Jin settles more comfortably, your eyes trail down the sculpted body next to you.

It’s easier this time. Figuring out how to deal with this post-stranger-sex.

“You go to that club often?” He asks, taking his own time to assess your spent form.

“Yeah, a few times a month,” because it is true, you’ve gone twice this month now.

There’s something reminiscent here. When Namjoon laid down next to you, there was a strange pull to keep him there. But somehow, now that the deed is done, you’re fine if this gorgeous man rolled out of your bed. You just want to curl up and mull over whatever is going on in your head. You're exhausted from all the back and forth in your mind.

With Namjoon, there was the fun of both of you giggling over what you’d just done. Something about Jin feels comfortable, like the sheets he’s occupying, something warm and soft. But something else gives off the vibe that the deed is done.

Or maybe, you want it to be done. Even now, you’re stifling the thoughts to compare this poor guy to last week’s fuck.

When your eyes trace back up to Jin’s face, you find him already watching you. Worrying his lip.

“I guess... I should go, huh?” He asks, voice small.

 _Yes_ , part of you almost rushes out. Instead, you give an apologetic smile. You feel a bit guilty, your thoughts must be written on your face. “I have an early morning.”

“Oh, yeah, totally,” Jin nods. He pats your thigh again as he hoists himself from the bed. You feel the pull of guilt. You can sense the tension, that he didn’t want to leave. But your mind is already whirling with thoughts. Rude, comparative thoughts you don’t want him to watch as they flicker across your expressions. 

While he shimmies the jeans back on, you marvel at how nicely his fat dick fits into the pants. You prop up on your elbows. And if your damn mind doesn’t betray you to remember how spent you were the last time you were naked in your sheets, watching a man get dressed.

“Awesome!” Jin nods, hands on his hips. He leans in, kissing your cheek. “I’ll see you around then?”

You smile up at him, remembering how Namjoon had slipped on the pillow and you’d been convinced to give him your number. “Sure.”

And just like that, he slips out your door.

The second you hear the door click, you reach for your phone in your jacket pocket, fumbling for the sleeve to pull it closer without getting out of bed.

“Are you okay?” Jimin sounds nervous when he finally answers.

“My first one night stand was so great its ruined all other one night stands!” you cry into your pillow more so than to Jimin.

“Are you serious?? I thought you were drunk and lost or needed a ride or something! Don’t scare me!”

There’s a pause.

“Wait, did you have sex with another...person?”

You just make a disappointed grunt.

“Two guys in one month?” Taehyung butts in.

“Oh my gosh, are you still Y/N?” Jimin gasps.

“Do u need an exorcist?” Taehyung calls in the background.

“Is this the return of the Duchess of Dick?” Jungkook groans even further in the background. Part of you is relieved to know he is with them and didn’t come home during your escapades. Another part of you wishes he was here to smack him through the phone for using your hometown nickname.

“Guys!” you shout into the phone. You roll over, mind already comparing each and everything you hadn’t already compared with this event to the other man. “I’m trying to live my life to the fullest and this man has ruined it!” 

Jimin laughs on the other end. “I mean, most of them are hit or miss. It sucks ‘cause your first was a hit. Just keep swinging, hun.”

“You keep making sports references and I hate sports,” you grumble.

Jimin laughs and you hang up. You roll over, not nearly as tired this time around.

Now, you’re pissed. You’d tried. You’d put in good effort tonight. But Jin was everything you thought you wanted before two weeks ago.

It’s clearly this guy. And no one puts you in your place. No, you were going to find this guy and give him a piece of your mind. You were going to find him and prove yourself.

And that’s 100% the only reason. Definitely.

You angrily yank your sheets up to your neck, tucking yourself in for the night. Your phone flashes right before you put it away.

The little icon for WaggleWalkers pops up on the screen. _Great job! Monie wants to walk with you again! Accept?_

Below are the details for an Sunday afternoon walk. Begrudgingly, you hit the accept button to have something to look forward to. Smacking the phone on the counter, you roll over and try to sleep, not feeling quite as spent as you’d hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me how OC is a dumb bitch in the comments or on Tumblr at Joopiterjoon :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Namjoon clouds your thoughts for days, you're out for vengeance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has gotten deeper than I expected. By the end of this, you should realize everyone has some sex or relationship problems they are dealing with. These are real situations and not everyone handles everything perfectly. I promise the light-heartedness will return next chapter. OC deals with her past in this chapter, which causes a panic attack. If you get immersed in your reading, please heed the warning. Side note: Taehyung is asexual, not aromantic.

Fuck everything.

That’s the thought that carries you through your morning routine. Fuck everything. Fuck the soap for getting in your eye. Fuck your foot for getting stuck funny in your jeans. Fuck the coffee machine for always putting grounds in the pot. Fuck the fact that your one night stand was more frustrating than anything else. Karma came to bite you in the ass _hard_. Was this your future? Fucked and fucked up?

And fuck motherfucking Namjoon who managed to somehow hijack your evening while still _never_ fucking texting you. How is that everything another man did keeps reminding you of Namjoon? How did Jin fucking split you in half yet you still dreamed about finally giving Namjoon a piece of your mind by having him on his knees begging?

“Hey grumpy face,” Jungkook sips his sugar-soaked coffee on the couch. Lounging around with his easy life making cash smashing a controller all day. Fuck that, too. “Lookin’ like you and your bro might actually be related.”

“Fuck you,” is the last fuck you give before leaving the house.

You’ve never been more relieved to walk into your weekend job at The Pink Lady. The familiar environment starts to soothe your agitation. The plush red carpet welcomes your aching soles after the concrete sidewalk. You breathe in the familiar, sugary sweet smell of overpriced perfume that every customer tests but never buys. Despite the security sensors and cameras, you always feel a sense of comfort and ease whenever you work at the locally-owned adult store. 

For the past 5 years, you’ve left and come back to this job every time you are in a bind for cash. And every time you do return, you feel like you’re a different person walking through these doors. Your boss and coworkers always eagerly welcome you back as a sane and knowledgeable staff member. As you head to the counter, you’re glad to be where you feel like you know what’s going on and what to do. Here, you can forget your worries and just focus on retail.

“Oh thank god,” Hoseok whines when he sees it’s you. He waves a flesh-colored dildo at a blushing customer. “She wants it in purple. Please help while I finish with the couple in the back.”

You smile and nod, taking the product out of his hand and walking the woman back to the wall of various sizes, shapes, and colors. Even on the other side of the store, you hear Hoseok’s bubbly voice prattle on about different collars and leashes.

Opposite you, Hoseok always stays the same. Bright, cheerful, and a little scary when you don’t finish the chores checklist. He’d been with you through thick and thin, always here whenever you returned. He knows how to poke fun yet mindfully listen, and you’d be lying if you say you’d never taken advantage of that over the years. Honestly, he knew more about you than anyone else at this point. Over the years, your lives outside the store had meshed. It wasn’t unusual for you both to go out together with Jimin, even though you’d been a social-invalid until recently.

Luckily it’s busy, so the customers distract you from all your concerns. People always arrived in flocks on Sunday mornings. You wander between racks, talking to customers about the different products, getting lost in your work and learning more about other people’s interests and concerns.

Yet, all too soon, the crowd wanes. Hoseok had seen his chance and comes round with a mischievous smile, resting his elbows on the counter.

“So, how is it now that the 40 years draught is over?”

“Wow,” you say, slamming down the two pocket pussies you were repackaging. You wish some things _would_ change about Hoseok, like his inherent nosiness. And how he and Jimin never keep anyone’s business to themselves. “No one is giving me any slack.”

“Excuse me, but this is a big deal,” Hoseok continues as you walk past him to put some boxes back. He shouts after you, “You were practically a virgin working at a sex shop.”

You hang the items a little too aggressively. “I am _not_ a virgin.”

“No, but you are the one who literally told a customer you are, and I quote, bi as in by myself,” Hoseok laughs again. You know exactly what he’s referring to, the tipsy bachelorette party who thought you were the cutest little sexpert. “What has it been? Two years since you stormed through those doors declaring you’d be celibate for life? Now you just up and fucked somebody?”

Now you’re blushing. “I fucked two guys, thank you very much!” 

“Oh?” Hoseok’s eyebrows shoot into his fringe as you come back to absently tap at the register. “You had sex with _two_ people?”

“Yes.” You regret bringing it up immediately.

“In the same month?” He asks, leaning over the counter to catch your eye. You slam the register shut and check the till.

“Yes,” You respond firmly.

Hoseok dials an imaginary phone in his hand before holding it up to his cheek. “Hello, Ms. Bi-my-self, why when and how did you decide to dust off the old libido?”

You chew at your lip, bending down to straighten the packs of male enhancements below the glass countertop. Hoseok’s obnoxiously cute little pout appears on the other side of the glass.

“E-X-P-L-A-I-N,” Hoseok spells, bouncing with each letter. “First, you swear off sex. Now, you return, reborn? And you didn’t think to tell me? Rude?”

You stick your tongue out and grab a handful of repackaged bullets Hoseok had abandoned. As you walk to the shelf, you try your best not to compare _The Plumber_ and _Twisted Jim_ to your most recent conquests. Usually, the ridiculous names people come up with amuse you. Today, however, your mind tries to figure out which of the many products on the wall should be renamed Namjoon and Jin. Who were you to think coming to a sex store would help you evade your thoughts?

Hoseok holds his arms out so you can’t escape from the cashier’s desk. He asks, “You’re really not going to tell me about it?”

“Didn’t Jimin already tell you?” You push past to find the matching pairs to the items you just showed the customer. 

“He said a bit. As in ‘holy shit you won’t believe who actually got dicked down last weekend’,” Hoseok teases in a way-too-high-pitched version of Jimin’s voice.

You both jump when someone clears their throat. 

“Sorry to bother,” a customer almost whispers behind you both.

“No, we apologize,” you cut Hoseok a disapproving glare. “How can we help you?”

“Um,” the man tries to focus on Hoseok and not you.

“Let’s talk over here,” Hoseok offers, ushering the man to another part of the store. You’re sage for a bit. Or so you think. The two rap up fairly quickly, the customer to shy to be bothered for long, and Hoseok is back at your side.

“So…? Give me the deets. It’s been _years_ since we’ve talked like this. Don’t exile me, too,” he pleads as he places his head in his hands, ass sticking out as he flops his hair back and forth. You say nothing, which causes Hoseok’s teasing expression to fade into worry. Exactly why you didn’t want to talk to him about this. “It wasn’t a friend again, was it?”

“I’m done with that,” you quickly say. “ They were just guys from a club.”

You check the store, but there are no distractions left. Honestly, you do miss the hours you and Hoseok would spend on shift talking about your sexplorations, as he affectionately called them. It really could be like old times without… you shake off the thoughts, as always.

“It was…” you try to think of how to describe the two experiences, “One was great, absolutely fantastic. Like too fantastic. But he ghosted me. And then…” you blush a bit, “then I literally went out to get over it, and the dick was massive. Like ouch massive. But it was meh.”

Hoseok nods along, humming. When you don’t continue, he prompts, “And…”

“There is no ‘and.’ That’s it,” you smile as an older gentleman nods on his way to the magazines.

“Aaaaand,” Hoseok draws out, “you’re going to go get checked before you get wrecked from playing back to back.” 

You sigh. “I know, I know, I’ll do it.”

Hoseok blocks your vision from checking on the DVD man and waves a finger in your face. “I know that tone. It’s the same tone when I leave early and ask you to clean the bathroom.” Before you can retort he starts again, “Girl, you work in a goddamn sex shop and you are going to put off getting tested?”

He spins around, jabbing a thumb over his back at the _Sex-pert_ written above the store logo on all your staff t-shirts. “We don’t sport this for nothing, so take your own medicine.”

You blush a bit. “I used a condom. And I’m busy. You know, working three jobs.”

“No one is too busy to stay healthy, especially when it’s free,” Hoseok tuts. “Come by this weekend while I’m working.”

“That is even weirder.” Hoseok literally lives and breathes sex. Besides his job here, he also works at a health clinic as their outreach coordinator. He dances at one of the local clubs on occasion, too. And to top it off, his sexual escapades leave you wondering who is left in the town to fuck. Something about visiting your friend to get tested in one of those stale hospital-like rooms just seems weird.

“Not as weird as being a sex store worker who can’t pencil in a screening. Common sense but no sex sense? You stopped sleeping around cause you couldn’t trust people, and now you’re gonna trust two strangers’ track records?”

You bristle. You don't want to think about it. “You know that’s not why.”

The store doors beep again, but when you turn to greet the customer, he’s already at the counter.

“Hoseok,” Taehyung sings, hands splayed on the glass Hoseok just cleaned. Not that Hoseok would ever scold Taehyung. He’s got a big smile on his face as he leans over the counter towards Hoseok. Good, he can distract your interrogator with his big puppy dog eyes.

“Hey Tae-baby,” Hoseok coos. He leans against the counter too, sending Taehyung a lazy smile.

“Hyung,” Taehyung starts, biting his lip as Hoseok bats his lashes. “I think I like you more every day.”

Hoseok takes Taehyung’s jaw in his hand. He rubs his cheek softly before twisting a chunk between his fingers. Taehyung doesn’t even flinch, just giggles.

“Awh that’s cute baby,” he pats Taehyung’s jaw then grabs some of the LELO displays to check their charge. “But you give no fucks, literally.”

You cringe a bit at Hoseok’s brashness. Taehyung and Hoseok were a tragically lost cause. It’d been a conversation they’d tiptoed around for over a year before finally sitting down to discuss the fact that Taehyung is asexual and Hoseok has a massive sexual appetite. Hoseok can’t date Taehyung in good confidence. At first, you thought it a silly reason to reject someone. But now, you understand. Trying to deny your desires and hoping for the best never ends well.

“I think I could for you,” Taehyung calls, sloping on the counter. He really does look like a lovesick puppy, pouting after Hoseok. “I’d fuck you.”

“Baby, we both know you don’t mean that. You can’t just tease me like that,” Hoseok chuckles with a wink. Taehyung and Hope’s light-hearted personalities always threw you for a loop with how casually they handled their predicament. Despite his sexuality, Taehyung is one of the most flirtatious people you know. Clingy, whiney, and weaponizes his good looks. It was as though the clash of their feelings and needs was best handled with a sense of humor.

“You make it really close though,” Taehyung whines. “I’d try.”

Hoseok plugs up a rabbit, turns it on, and bops it against Taehyung’s nose.

“Don’t change for anyone, Taehyung,” Hoseok scolds. 

“Just so you know, you aren’t getting paid for coming in on your day off,” you tease Taehyung in an attempt to change the subject. Taehyung smacks his lips and rolls his eyes, not interested in your jabs. That’s fine, you aren’t interested in his tragic romance either. You’d rather see him wrapped around Jimin instead of floating in this cloud of strain.

“Hoseok,” he whines, rolling to a standing position. Hoseok cocks an eyebrow to show he’s listening. “When do you get off?”

“Mm, once or twice a day, usually in the morning,” he says, then laughs at his own joke, grabbing onto you for support.

You walk away from their pointless flirting. Love. Love is messy. Like Hoseok and Taehyung. People on opposite ends of the sex drive spectrum somehow drawn to each other. Hoseok’s mature though. He’s not going to risk it to know it won’t work out. He knows what he needs in a relationship and how to handle a friendship.

You like to think you’ve matured, too. You think you know what you want now. You’ll make it work.

As the other two carry on, you stare at the rack of bullets across the way. A vibrator and a dog, you wouldn’t need anything else. You should get a dog. 

As if on cue, your phone sends you a reminder for Monie’s walk that afternoon. Well, at least you have cute dogs like him to keep you occupied. 

* * *

You don’t pay much attention to your client’s houses. But sometimes, there’s a change. New paint, new plants, things that make you notice a shift. When you pick up Monie, you notice the place looks cleaner. It wasn’t dirty before, but it is definitely rearranged now. The shoes are stacked neatly in the rack, and the array of brightly colored and earth-toned jackets are neatly hung. You wonder if the owner had some kind of drunken blunder last time you visited, or maybe they’re a stress cleaner.

“Did you clean up for me?” You ask when Monie’s head pops into the entryway. He bounds forward when he recognizes you, and your heart swells with affection. You really should get a dog.

“Let’s go, pretty boy,” you coo as you clip Monie in and head out the door.

_You_

_Thanks for picking me again! I guess Monie had fun last time._

_Monie’s Owner_

_Yeah_

_He did_

_Couldn’t wait to see you again_

You giggle. You appreciate owners that give their dogs some personality. You send a picture of Monie happily trotting on the sidewalk.

_You_

_We’re having a good time!_

_Monie’s Owner_

_I bet_

“Hey new best friend, want to go to the park?” You coo to the dog. He turns, tongue lolling to the side, ears perked at your last special word. His energetic patter of paws seems like he’s asking _really?_

“Well of course. You gave me such a raving review on Wagglewalkers. Got to prove I’m worthy,” you reply. You scratch his ears and head to the park, walking the loop, taking a little bit longer than usual. Time gives you space to think. You don’t like the time to think, though.

“Monie, I’m in a bind,” you mutter to the dog as he sniffs a trash can. “Last time I saw you, I had a great time. This time I’m just…”

Monie glances behind him when you stop talking. His little nose twitches in the breeze.

“I know,” you sigh. You shouldn’t be burdening this stranger’s dog with your woes. But you aren’t sure what else to do. Part of you wants to stalk down Namjoon and give him the fuck of his life. Part of you never wants to see him again. The situation with Jin last night made it clearer to you that maybe it’s just Namjoon who has that kind of hold on you. What was it? Confidence? But you went in strong. It’s really the only pattern you know. Take control in the bedroom to get what you want. Was he just that fucking good?

You shake your head. One night stand. You’re trying to do sex like normal people now. Love or hookups. None of your in between shit. 

Monie sneezes in frustration. Your wandering mind led to slower steps, so he now pulls on the leash to let you know he’s rearing to go. The walk was long enough, and he’s naturally heading back home.

“You’re right,” you tell Monie as you pick up the pace, “gotta push forward.”

Upon returning to the house, you unclip Monie and lean down to scratch his ears. “Good boy,” you coo. “We had fun! So much fun. I hope we have fun again.”

Monie leans into your scratches, showing he’s down for more fun, too. His ears perk when a clang comes from the kitchen. The owner must be up.

“Thanks for helping me clear my head,” you whisper and rub your foreheads together. “Now, go find your mom or dad.”

Monie trots off with a wag of his bushy tail. You rise, turning to the door, already planning to spend the next hour torturing yourself on the local rescue’s Dogs-Who-Need-Furever-Homes webpage.

“Monie! Your back!” Your hand freezes on the doorknob.

“Shit, she’s back,” the voice speaks again.

Not _the_ voice.

His voice.

You spin on your heel, nerves flaring. He slides on socked feet into the small hall, jaw-dropped and wide-eyed.

“Holy shit… it’s really you,” Namjoon says, amazed.

“Holy shit,” you breathe.

You both stare at each other. It’s him. One Night Stand #1. The motherfucker who caused your fucking identity crisis. You’re standing in his house. In his doorway.

And hell, he looks just as good with stringy bed head, his tank top showing off the skin you’d been dreaming of sinking your fingers into. 

“Look, I can ex-explain,” he gesticulates as he tries to articulate a response. “I woke up and was going to text you but when you texted me as the dog walker I-”

“What?” you scoff. Is dog-walker somehow an issue for him? Living in a nice part of town, is he some uppity prick?

“Yeah, what, that’s a good question,” he laughs nervously, “Um, this is weird but,” he stops when you keep walking forward. You try not to stomp. A shy, apologetic smile creeps over his face as he rubs the back of his neck.

Now you’re pissed because, on top of the awkwardness, you can feel something else in the air. The undeniable excitement of seeing each other again.

“You were going to text me the morning after?” You ask, mind grabbing for that detail instead of any of the more sensible things you should be considering. You don’t know what game he was playing at. You cross your arms defensively. 

“I wanted to text you that night,” he confesses. Shit, you want to be mad. You are mad. But along with irritation, all your daydreams from the last week are blending in. Something in the way he shrinks in on himself makes you think he’d love to be small, to lose the control. He looks so soft and shy and you want to see those soft eyes quell with tears. 

“Why didn’t you? At this rate, you should have said nothing and stopped booking appointments,” You quip. God, you love the way he winces at your words. 

“The dog messenger thing popped up, but I already had you saved in there and it was your name and then I panicked and then I waited too long and it was weird and I thought, when you came by today, I’d try to explain it… but…” After rushing his words out a mile a minute, Namjoon trails off, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes peer up at you from under his fringe with a plea, begging you to say something. Your stomach flips at the way he bites his lip. The need for approval dances behind his gaze. 

“That’s stupid,” you tut. Approval denied. Namjoon’s eyes widen. You take another step closer, and it’s almost like a static pull. Like if you keep moving forward, eventually, you’ll get zapped. And you kind of want that. Because right now, it feels like you have the power like you’ll be the one making him sting.

As though he suddenly notices your own outfit, his eyes dance to where your skin is exposed. Your nerves alight as though he’s touching wherever his eyes fall. The butterflies in your stomach revel in the furrow of his brow, almost in pain as he takes you in, and your irritation melts into want. You want him. And you want him like this. Eyes wide, seeking to appease you.

“Do you know what you did to me?” You ask, nose high so you can look down at him despite the height difference.

Namjoon swallows. His large shoulders sag under the weight of your stare, and you can’t help but smirk. He tucks his head into his chest and nods.

“You fucking put me on my back, then left. You knew exactly where I was but hid from me,” you say, taking another step so your toe-to-toe. You’re so close that you catch a whiff of that same earthy scent. You can’t help but reach out, tilting his chin up to meet your demeaning gaze. “And you’re excuse is timing?”

Namjoon’s mouth bobs, fumbling for words he doesn’t find. He rings his wrists, like a sign of pittance.

“Sorry,” he croaks.

“Sorry is not going to cut it,” you say. You mean it, too. After weeks of fantasizing, you need more than sorry. You need to put him in his place. And you recognize it, that flirtatious glint in his eye. He’s caught on, and that’s all you need.

You don’t know who makes the first move, but suddenly his lips mold to yours, both of you grabbing for each other. Monie already forgotten. Within seconds, your hands are under his shirt, running over his ribs to shuck his shirt and toss it behind you.

Namjoon pulls you closer. His arms glide up your back to hold you against him, but you’re having none of it. He had his fun. He tantalized your every thought for two weeks. It’s your turn.

You press him into the wall and weave your fingers into his blond hair. His breath stutters at the impact, and you steal the rest of his breath as you press your lips together. He grunts into your mouth as you slide your tongue over his soft bottom lip. It’s still that same earthy taste, a little salty. He whimpers against the force of your tongue slides into his mouth and taps his own.

You smooth your palms over his firm chest, holding him down when he tries to roll you over. You grind into his hips and he bucks up in response.

“Shit,” Namjoon laughs, sounding out of breath. It only spurs you on. You have no idea what the rest of the home looks like, but you know that you want him close and not getting away anytime soon. Not until you satisfy every urge you forgot about last time.

The soft pads of his fingers tease beneath your top before he breaks away from your kiss. You both watch with heaving breaths as he raises the hem of your sweatshirt. 

“Off, please,” Namjoon says, voice already affected. Manners. It’s a nice touch, asking permission. His frantic hands and quick breaths resemble a man who’s ready to bend to your every will to give you what you want. And that’s exactly what the sparkle in his eyes tells you, lips parted in awe as your shirt comes over your head. He gulps when he finds no more layers left to fiddle with.

While he takes in your bare chest, your fingers lightly dance over his tanned arms, tracing the protruding veins. He shivers, which makes you smirk. With a sigh, he rests against the wall as you continue to caress him.

“Having fun?” He asks, head resting on the wall as he takes in your hungry expression.

You purse your lips, letting your nails trace back up his skin. He sucks in a breath at the pain. “Haven’t even started.”

His mouth finds yours again, grabbing at your hips, rough hands dragging over your exposed skin. His hands stop just short of your breasts, gripping tighter. You aren’t the only one who’d missed this.

You wrench his belt in the buckle until he gasps. Namjoon practically yelps when you snap his waistband and your knee slots between his legs. You can feel his hardening cock through his jeans, and you want more.

“I need you to get that fat cock out for me-” you bite his lip- “and prove you’re what I’ve been dreaming of.” 

“You wha-” he can’t finish his sentence because your tongue is back behind his teeth, sliding his belt out. You fold it, give it a good snap, and loop it behind his neck. You tug him towards you again. Namjoon goes limp, whining into your mouth as you push and pull against his body, chest to chest, skin to skin.

“Been dreaming about fucking me, too?” You purr with a nip to his jaw. Namjoon’s hands brace on your hips as you leave wet kisses down his throat.

“Christ, have I ever,” he says with a hint of a smile, so you look up. It’s so devilish. All teeth, sly, eyebrows raised in amusement. It irks you. Feels like the man who had you begging. To top it off, Namjoon rolls his hips into your thigh. A reminder that he wants to get a move on.

But that’s not how things are working this time. You yank on the belt around the base of his neck, jolting him, and the cocky smile disappears. It’s replaced with something better. Yearning. Submissive.

You arch towards his parted lips, but drop back right as his mouth reaches yours. You revel in how he leans in right away, eyes already closed and lips puckered. His grunt rumbles through his chest from where your bare skin molds together. He tries again, and instead, you sink your lip into his plush bottom lip.

“Fuck,” Namjoon murmurs, still being denied kisses. You wait until his eyes flutter open. The frustration there elates you. That’s what _you_ want. And the reins are in your hands. You know he senses it, his fight waning and instead impatiently anticipating your next move.

You grant him what he wants and move his hands to your breasts. His thumbs tease over your nipples and you whine into his mouth, coaxing him to give more. But Namjoon whimpers, tongue circling yours. From the stroke of your tongue against his, the press of your bare skin together, and the belt around his neck pulling him close, you consume him. His touch starts to loosen, getting lost in your advances.

“B-bedroom,” Namjoon breathes against your kiss-bitten lips. 

Instead of letting him lead you, you pin his hips back when he tries to move. “What’s wrong with right here?”

“Jesus,” Namjoon gulps. His breaths are ragged, chest rising and falling under your arms.

You let go of the belt, letting the rough leather trace down Namjoon’s torso and brush over the outline of his hard cock. Without giving him a second glance, you wander into his bright kitchen. Namjoon sighs behind you. It brings a smile to your lips. He’s got an excellent view of your ass as you ponder your next move.

You lean over the island in the center of the kitchen, body shivering from the cold countertop that presses against your stomach. As you hook your thumbs in your leggings and drag them down, you glance over your shoulder. He is still there, braced against the wall for support, running a shaky hand through his hair.

“Better hurry up.”

Namjoon’s lips twitch into a smile. As he steps closer, he clumsily undoes his pants and tries to step out of them. He shakes his boxers off, and finally free, heads to you. But you turn just before he gets there and hold up your hand. He stops.

What a fucking sight. In all his glory in the afternoon sun, Namjoon’s skin practically glows. The light casts shadows over the soft definition of his torso, his thighs, and the rise and fall of his chest carries a rhythm that gives no hint of the control he possessed last time.

And that cock. That fat cock you’d been dreaming of, that fills you up so well, that he knows exactly how to use. It stands at attention, thick and eager to please.

“Good boy,” you purr. God, does it feel nice to hear those words roll off your tongue. To throw it back at him as he stands there, obedient, waiting for your next signal. You expect a retort, some kind of amused commentary, but he says nothing, just continues to wait.

You crook your finger, and he eagerly steps forward. You can’t help but cackle as he licks his lips in anticipation. 

As soon as he’s within reach, you wrap your fingers around his throbbing cock and practically mewl. He watches, too, testing a thrust into your hand.

“This all for me?” You ask with a tentative stroke over the velvet skin.

Namjoon tongues at his cheek, watching his cock in your hand. “Yes.”

“Sensitive boy, aren’t you?” You whisper into his ear, nipping the lobe.

You tighten your grip, and to your surprise, he doesn’t wince. He moans, hand grabbing onto the counter behind you. Propped on the counter, his body casts a shadow over you. You’d forgotten how big _all_ of him was. Yet still, you had the control with your hand on his cock as he sighed into your shoulder. You twist your wrist just to prove your point to yourself.

“Fuuuck,” Namjoon draws out with a brush of his lips to your neck.

“You like that?” You ask. Because you like it. You like how much that just affected him. How you saw his body quiver. “You like it when I stroke your cock and call you a good boy?”

“Jesus, that’s...” Namjoon swears again. He reaches for your waist to take your body and devour you. “Come here.”

The demanding tone in his voice only makes you more competitive. You swat at his outstretched arms and order, “Not yet."

Namjoon fights it. He reaches out again, grabbing at your thighs. 

But he still can’t meet your gaze. In fact, you can see the blushing pink on his cheeks. You place your grip at the base of his throat, dangerously close but still at a safe distance. You press until he’s forced to take a step back. “You’re not giving the orders here. Stay.”

Namjoon huffs, brows furrowing as your body lays just out of reach.

“I didn’t know this was the game we were playing.” It’s different than a complaint. He’s mumbling like a child, slouching in on himself and lips twisted. When you crane your neck to force him to look at you, he jerks his head to the other side, chewing on his bottom lip. 

Like a disobedient, little boy. You feign annoyance, honestly interested in this reaction. The pet names fell off your tongue naturally, but you didn’t expect this response. So shy. “You didn’t answer my question. Do you like being called a good, little, baby boy?”

He glances up at you, something defensive in his narrowed eyes. The palms of his large hands reach for you again, so you dig your fingers into his collarbone. “Is that a no? Do you want to be a bad boy?”

Namjoon’s grabby hands stop immediately and his body goes rigid beneath your touch. Oh, maybe this isn’t what he wants. Maybe you got too worked up. You start to pull your hand back.

But he catches your wrist, holding it in place. He inhales with a shudder. “I want…” his eyes meet yours again, blown wide over reddening cheeks, “to be a good boy… for you.”

His words go straight to your core. You love it. This tall man, hand holding yours to his throat, wanting to be a good little boy.

“That’s more like it,” you coo, patting his cheek. That earlier frustration isn’t there, his expression brightening at your praise.

“Step back,” you push off his chest. His fists ball up at his sides. He continues to gnaw on his bottom lip. He’s trying to hold his hands at his sides just for you, like a good boy.

You find the counter behind you and hoist yourself up. You sit pretty on the cool surface. You follow the shape of your thighs down to your knees before spreading your thighs. You watch as he follows your hands dancing over your skin. His hand flinches towards his dick when you roll your nipples between your fingers. He’s completely entranced, his dark eyes bouncing across your body, even where you aren’t touching. It sets you on fire to have someone revel in your presence like this. 

You tease out your hair before scooting back a bit more. “Do you like to watch?”

Namjoon Adam’s apple bobs.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you hum, picking up one leg and setting it on the counter. Namjoon whines a bit, his fists clenching tighter. You cut him a look, daring him to touch himself. Damn, his arms look good with all that tension though. When he relaxes, you continue. “Did you like watching me writhe underneath you?”

Namjoon’s eyebrows raise. He probably heard the irritation in your voice. You laugh a bit at the nervousness in his eyes. “Did you think you’d get the same thing again?”

With blown eyes, Namjoon watches your other leg come to sit on the counter. You’re spread before him, all of you exposed. You should feel vulnerable, but the look on his face makes you feel like a goddess.

“This is-“ Namjoon’s voice cracks. He clears his throat and you almost squeal. “This is so much better.”

You hum again, running a finger down your stomach, barely touching your core, teasing yourself.

“God, I’m so wet,” you whine, dragging a finger through your folds. His knees buckle a bit. “Makes me so horny when you’re a good boy like this.”

Namjoon licks his lips, nodding like he’s always been good for you.

You’ve had enough. Your fingers dipping into your core and the pained expression on Namjoon’s face are nothing compared to his cock.

You take your hand away and give him a nod.

He quickly crowds your space, and you try to stay upright with a hand in his hair, holding him close. When he starts to lean in, you jerk him back with a hard tug. He practically mewls.

“Show me how much better,” You order, hand sliding to grip the back of his neck. He nods quickly, too quickly, as he grabs a handful of your hip in one hand and lines himself up with the other. You bring one leg over to press your toes against Namjoon’s chest. Something desperate flashes in his eyes.

“Show me with a condom,” you correct.

“Right,” he says, but doesn’t move. You quirk an eyebrow, eyes darting down to his cock, swollen and leaking, just inches from you. 

“Right right right,” Namjoon says again, and with what seems like great self-control, he detaches from you. He pads over to a drawer, rifling through. He swears as he yanks another open too fast, the front colliding with his dick and giving it a whole other reason to throb.

You stifle a laugh while admiring his backside. His thighs look even better from behind, and you consider having him fuck you against the wall just to feel them under your ass.

Damn.

He turns, condom in hand, a beaming smile on his face. He looks more like a boy who just got a free toy at the arcade. 

“Cute,” you tease, spreading your legs a bit wider. He smiles down at the condom as he heads back over. By the time he’s in between your legs, tongue swiping over your bottom lip while he slips the condom on, the boyish smile is gone. You take his length in your hand and give it a few languid strokes to roll the condom all the way down. 

“Fuck me, Joon,” You breathe into his mouth as you rub the head of his cock against your clit. Namjoon’s so sensitive he can barely manage to keep kissing you, thighs trembling and lips quivering. “I better feel how bad you want it.”

Namjoon hesitates for just a moment. There’s a hint of suspicion like he’s scared you’ll just tease him again. And that submissiveness sends sparks through your body as you throw a leg over one of his shoulders to encourage him.

He wastes no time and thrusts all the way in. You cry out, head tossed back, bracing your palm against the counter as the force shifts you back. Tears sting at your eyes, but when he pulls back and sinks in again, you find yourself laughing through gritted teeth. The angle has him pounding straight into your gspot.

The blend of pain, the stretch, along with the pleasure rubbing against your walls has you breathless as he plows in, using the counter and your waist as leverage. Your body jostles, stolen kisses between you just from the way you bounce against the countertop. You can already feel the pleasure coiling deep inside you, eager for release. He took you seriously and fucks you as hard as he wants it, but you still want more.

“Harder,” you cry out, the sound stuttered by his thrusts.

“Yes, yes,” Namjoon grunts, dropping his head to the crook of your neck, fingers scratching so deep into your skin that you hope he leaves bruises. You clench your walls, hoping for the last bit of friction you need to tip over the edge.

The pace slows ever so slightly, and you tug at his hair again. He gasps, hips still slowing. You want to see his face this time. The desperation in his eyes under pinched eyebrows. The way his lips part, plump and kiss bitten. He’s struggling already. He’d been the perfect image of control last time, and now, with his hair mussed under your firm grip, he is falling apart.

“Don’t you dare cum,” you command, and Namjoon whines. A high-pitched, guilty sound that goes straight through you. The look of fear of displeasing you blooms hot within you, a parallel to the smug look he had between your legs last time. You glance between you when he does, and it’s almost nasty, the way his cock slides in and out, your slick coating the condom.

“God, you’ve got an amazing dick,” you groan. You tug his hair harder. He grabs at your breast, scissoring your nipple between soft fingers, leaning in to suck at the juncture of your neck. You know what he’s doing. He’s trying to buy time. But you let him, overwhelmed by the pinches of his hands and scrapes from his teeth and the nudge of his cock.

Your nails dig into Namjoon’s scalp and he works even harder, dick starting to pump in and out again. He trails open-mouthed kisses across your collarbones until he locks onto a soft point on your neck. You cry out, finally pushed to the edge as he starts to sink deeper, using the force of his whole lower body to rock you back and forth. His hands dig into the meat of your ass to drag you onto his cock with each thrust.

“You’re gonna make me come,” you whine, fist balling against the cold countertop.

“Please,” Namjoon begs, breathless. “Please cum.”

He sounds so needy. So desperate for you to get off so he can, you almost want to stave it off. Want to see if he’ll start to cry. But you want this just as bad. Just the sheer pleasure of experiencing him again is almost enough to break you. The overwhelming sensations surge through your skin from everywhere he touches and your orgasm rocks through you.

It’s not a slow wave crashing down like before. No, this time, your lips purse, profanities falling from your mouth as his cock stutters inside your tightening walls, body pulsing with each thrust. Your clit throbs despite never being touched and the sweet release pulses through your shaking legs and makes you gasp for air.

You release your grip on his hair to rub your thumb over his flush cheek, feeling the tension in his jaw as he holds on just for you. “Good boy,” you stammer out, “come.”

“Thank you,” Namjoon all but sobs, and then he’s coming, collapsing into you. His skin, dewy with sweat, still feels sleek against your own as he twitches, deep voice rumbling through his chest as he groans. You clinch your walls for good measure and Namjoon grabs your arm, squeezing in a warning. He can’t seem to form words.

You giggle, and he snorts out a laugh. Your fingers stroke through his hair as you kiss his temple, a small sign of thank you. He just sniffs and tries to regain some semblance of reality, you guess.

It takes him a bit to regain his composure. With a kiss to your knee, Namjoon lowers your leg. Your body pulses as he steps away, bare in his kitchen with his dick still half hard. His arms are tensed and his chest glistens from his effort. The sight makes you wonder how soon he could go again.

He takes another step or two back, admiring you in turn. You send him a wink then jump down, standing on your discarded leggings. Taking a deep breath, he sends you a bashful grin. Something about the look makes your heart stutter, and you feel as though you should be shy, too. 

“So,” Namjoon starts as you both start gathering your clothes. “I would have texted you much sooner if that was the result.”

“You liked that?” You ask, walking passed him with a little skip to grab your top. You’re pleased to see he remains shirtless, leaning against the counter he just fucked you on.

“Um, obviously,” Namjoon says, waving to his clothed cock like the answer was somewhere near there. The stuttering boy from a few minutes ago has been replaced by the somewhat reserved persona you remember from the taxi cab.

“No, I mean…” You’re not sure how to say this. Now that you fucked the angst out of your system, you feel a bit awkward broaching the topic. But you wanted to know. Why? Was this or last time a fluke? “You were in charge last time. And this time, I was in charge.”

Namjoon blinks. “And?”

“Both…” you huff. “Both were fine for you? Seriously?”

Namjoon thinks it through. His fingers ghost over his lips and you have a strong urge to put them in his mouth. He’d look great choking on them. “I don’t see why not? It’s fucking great either way.”

“That’s…” You aren’t sure what to do with this. You’re getting turned on by his casual response. He’s so nonchalant about it, content and fucked out in his kitchen. You suffice with, “I’m glad you liked it.”

Namjoon hums. He slides down the counter towards you. Before you know, he has a hand around your waist, the other tilting your chin up. 

He gives you a kiss. It’s soft, pleasant, and surprisingly not awkward. Your heart picks up pace. No, it’s too soft, too pleasant. You break the kiss too soon.

“I liked it. I liked fucking you in your bed, I liked fucking you in my kitchen,” Namjoon states. You giggle, smiling up at him. His smile drops a bit, eyes wide. You look away from what you just saw there in the brown pools.

“Okay, well, that’s good,” you start. “Really good.” You catch a glance back up and Namjoon squeezes your hip. You both stand there together for a bit. Too quiet for too long, and it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. “I’m definitely late for my next dog walk.”

Namjoon stiffens. It clicks in both your minds. Your heads turn, scanning the room.

There, blended into the white cabinets, sits Monie. He blinks his little, not-so-innocent eyes at the pair of you.

You cover your mouth in a mix of embarrassment and hysterics. “Oh my god, Monie.”

Namjoon drops his hands to squeeze the bridge of his nose. “I’ve scarred my child.”

You go to apologize, but the dog makes a break for it.

“Oh my god, he hates me,” you whimper, dropping to your knees as the dog disappears from view.

Namjoon laughs behind you. The joy bursts from his throat and it sounds almost dorky.

It’s happy. At ease. 

Oh shit. 

The rational side of your brain kicks into gear. You fucked him again. Two times. And now you are laughing in his kitchen, about his dog, who you walk, like it’s no big deal. 

It’s happening again.

You stand so fast you feel dizzy, but you quickly start gathering the rest of your things. You don’t exchange many words as he follows you to the door.

That’s that, you tell yourself. A freak incident. You just so happened to be the dog walker for one of the greatest fucks of your life. That’s it. You aren’t going to make anything more of it. You can’t. You told yourself you wouldn’t anymore. And with how that kiss felt... so comfortable, so easy, so...

He opens it for you, staring down expectantly. Unaware that you are freaking out inside. You want to get out of here. You need to get out of here. You shuffle your feet. “So, um, bye.”

Namjoon smiles back, all his beautiful teeth on display. Your heart skips a beat.

Shit. You can feel yourself breaking, head swirling in panic. You head down the steps of his townhouse, looking back as you trade goodbyes.

“Hey,” Namjoon calls as you reach the last step. Your heart flutters. “You are gonna run into that bush.”

You reel, and in fact, run into the bush.

Namjoon struggles on the steps, not sure if he should come to your aid or not as you disentangle yourself. Maybe he can sense how bad you want to get away. His arms fumble in the air like somehow he can help you from the ledge.

“I'll let you know if Monie needs another walk,” Namjoon says.

“Huh?” You say in disbelief. You don’t want another walk. Another fuck. FOr this thing to be a… thing. 

Namjoon rubs at his forehead. “That’s not-- I meant…” 

_That’s not what I meant and you know it!_ The memory breaks through and bounces around your skull.

“I’d like to see you again,” Namjoon clarifies. But his words are lost among the voices now shouting in your head. Words of people and situations you’d tried to reconcile and forget about. You want to crawl out of your skin like you did that bush, but bury deep into your roots at the same time.

Your response feels like sludge clogging your throat. Something you weren’t expecting. Which is good. You shouldn’t expect it. You should leave it at this. That’s something. He’s asking for more. They keep asking for more. They always want it even if they say they don’t. You want to run. The urge to get out of their overwhelms you. It shouldn’t have gone this far anyways.

It’s happening again. One way or another. Your throat feels tight, your mouth’s so dry. Your head feels too foggy for the fresh air.

You take off down the street. You try anything to keep your mind off it, but the memories tear at your defenses. Panic pulses through your veins and throbs in your temples. Everything you tried to hold back rushes in.

_“That’s not what I meant and you know it!”_

_“I didn’t think you were such a slut.”_

_“But we’re practically best friends who fuck! Why won’t you date me?”_

_“How could you? You didn’t even ask me!”_

_“You seriously believed him? He’s had a crush on you for ages.”_

_“I like you. I took anything you’d give me.”_

You shake your head against the voices of old friends, ex-lovers, acquaintances, feet pounding on the pavement. The blood rushing in your ears does nothing to drown out the memories in your head. All the reasons for why you swore off sex. As you pick up the pace, darting into the park to avoid having to stop on the street, panic consumes you, stars in your vision.

Love terrified you. Or moreso, the effort that went into loving someone only for it to fall apart. You’d thought long and hard after a series of breakups how to avoid the pain altogether. So you’d found a happy medium.

Friends with benefits. To love is to lose. But friends, friends stick around. Why not add a little something to your friendship? When you both wanted it, to sleep together. Nothing extra. No strings attached. To have your cake and eat it, too.

Except, you chose too many friends. Trusted too many people. Didn’t follow the rules. You couldn’t see that there were so, so many strings interwoven between you and your lovers, the friends you shared.

You shake your head like the berating of your own thoughts could spill out of your ears, but it continues on.

You’re a player who made up their own game. You’d taken everyone at their word and it had only hurt them, and yourself, in the end. Some had said they were fine, that you could fuck and that was it. But then as time went on, they wanted more. Always more. More you never agreed to give.

Some lied from the get-go, thinking they could trick you into love after a quick fuck. Others you’d fucked then found out someone else had liked them and you were supposed to ask first. Lost a friend, lost another. Or the mere fact that you’d fuck more than one person, how people suddenly panicked, acting like your arrangement was somehow monogamous. Someone else lost. Someone else broken. Everyone mad. So mad.

It ended in shambles and you ran away. Being forced to run. Running like right now, throat burning as your breath comes in gasps. Cut off from your friends just like the air cutting off in your chest. Your old friends. You couldn’t believe Jungkook even let you stick around, so much as live with him. You had hurt him, too. Even your brother was pissed at you. Rightfully so.

You’re not safe, the sun setting now. But you don’t care. You know what you did wasn’t playing it safe. You’d punished yourself, abstained from any fuckery you might cause. Finally thinking you could manage it, you came back around at the idea of hookups, something quick and easy to cut off.

But you couldn’t trick yourself.

The second you slept with Namjoon you knew the real reason for the pull that night lying in bed together and everything feeling comfortable. You wanted something more. He’d caught your attention and you couldn’t deny how nice it would be to have that same night over and over, just as easy, with the same person. But it’s never that easy. You know it’s not possible. 

You sprint the whole way home, trying to give your heart a reason to be racing. The tears in your eyes let you know the panic attack is passing, that your body is switching over to just real, raw emotions you hadn’t dealt with in over a year.

You’re almost thankful when you hear voices on the other side of your apartment door.

“I’m telling you, her eyes, dude. She could have just stared up at me and I would’ve lost it,” Jimin’s muffled revelry floats through the entryway. You hear Taehyung laugh and bet Jungkook’s cherry red. Thank goodness. Something easy, something light, something distracting. 

You don’t want to think. You don’t want to reflect. You want to move on. You can do this. Easy, simple.

The voices hush as soon as you walk in. You’re suspicious. Jimin leans against your couch, and a blushing Jungkook and Taehyung lay in a pile. And of course, Taehyung is coloring within the lines of Jungkook’s tattoos as usual. Hoseok must have actually had plans after work.

“Oh, please, do carry on,” you say as you head to the kitchen. Holy shit are you thirsty. Maybe because you just panic-ran 2 miles.

After a moment of pause, Jimin does. About some girl who apparently gave him the suck of his life. His memory was apparently impeccable, no detail left to the imagination.

“You look like you’ve been fucked, too” Taehyung comments from the floor.

You freeze by the couch, water halfway to your parted lips. You’re pretty sure you look like you ran a marathon. But apparently the truth flashed across your face before you could cover up.

“I did not sign up for this.” Jungkook covers his eyes with a groan. “I swear to god if I log on and one of my friends suddenly starts professing his love for your pussy game again I--”

“Fuck off, I won’t, okay? Why does everyone think that?” You almost shout. The boys stare, startled by your outburst. You’re a bit startled, too. You haven’t calmed down yet. Guilt floods you again. Jungkook looks like he clearly regrets bringing up the subject, but not as much as you regret the memories he just drudged up. When he’d had his friends over and you’d casually slept with one. Then another one. Then the fallout that happened as the two fought over it.

“So who was it?” An oblivious Taehyung asks, far too busy coloring in the skeleton on Jungkook’s arm to notice the still hanging tension.

“Um,” you take a sip. What was with today? All day, trying to avoid these things. And over and over, people try to pull it out of you.

Jimin pats the space next to him, mistaking your annoyance for coyness. “Your turn.”

You look back down the hall toward your bedroom, then back at the boys. Clearly, fate wants you to deal with this. You should talk. You can’t risk freaking out like that again. You’ll concede. Just a bit.

“I might have just discovered that the guy I fucked a few weeks ago is the owner of one of my favorite dogs,” you start as you take a seat.

Jungkook chokes, no doubt remembering what he was subjected to the night Namjoon came over.

“So you just fucked your client?” Jimin says with a coy smile.

“Ah!” Taehyung snaps. “What if each time he books you for a dog walk, it’s sex? Instead!”

“Like a dog walking prostitute,” Jimin says. “I walk your dog, you give me dick.”

“Please don’t walk Tannie again,” Taehyung adds, pulling out a different colored pen to doodle on Jimin’s hand. Jungkook’s all colored in at this point. Jimin snatches it back and Taehyung whines in protest.

“Last time you did that, it didn't come off for weeks,” Jimin scolds, smacking the pen when Tae tries again.

Tae taps the pen against his pursed lips. “Kookie doesn’t mind.”

“He also sits in a dark room talking into a headset all day,” Jimin says like Jungkook isn’t right next to him. He takes the pen and tucks it in Taehyung’s dress shirt pocket. He’s more like a mother hen than a best friend.

“But did you get his number?” Jimin directs back at you. Damn, you thought they’d been distracted. Apparently the same caring attitude does not apply to you and your shenanigans.

“No.”

“So let me get this straight,” Jimin exhales through his nose. “You fucked the amazing guy _again_. And didn’t get his number. _Again_.”

“I know.”

Taehyung’s moved to rest his head in Jimin’s lap, so he can’t keel over in total despair. “You are completely hopeless. That was god giving you a second chance, Mary Magdalen. It ain’t gonna come again.”

“I don’t want it to come again!”

“Why?” Taehyung asks. 

“Because!” You start again, your voice too shrill. Too shaky. What is it with today? Taehyung’s eyes are soft, a genuine question, not meaning to bother you. He wasn’t around when this all first started. You and Hoseok had traded places. When you’re drama ended, swearing off sex, Taehyung wandered into your life. And then, Hoseok’s own drama started with Taehyung.

But… you know this has been coming. Your mind has been sending you warnings that you refused to admit were there as soon as you slept with Namjoon. Your old nagging habits saying, _this could work, right?_

Just like before. Before, when you thought things could work out. When you took people at their word. When people like Jungkook’s friends said there would be no hard feelings then harassed you both about why you wouldn’t date them. After they _said_ it was fine. Every time, it would all go downhill.

You take a steadying breath as you feel the tightness in your throat return. Jimin cocks his head, completely taken aback by your response.

You know exactly what will happen if you keep seeing Namjoon. You’ll get closer, you’ll love it, then he’ll… he’ll want more. Or he’ll change his mind. And it’ll all fall apart, just like before. That’s exactly why your heart raced at Namjoon’s offer. It opened a door that you already knew wasn’t going to close-- it was going to fall off its hinges.

“Avoid the emotional baggage,” you summarize instead of unloading everything. It seems enough for the two of them.

“Speaking of baggage,” Jimin sports a crooked smile, so you know it’s not good. “Kook said you were quite the womanizer back in the day.”

You nod. The thing is, you aren’t embarrassed by your actual body count. Or your sexuality. You are confident in bed. At least, you were. It’s just what it’s become. The drama and destroyed friendships from trusting you could fuck anyone and it’d be okay if they said as much.

“I want to see it,” Taehyung muses. “Seductress Y/n.”

You smirk. Of course, Taehyung is the one who wants to see it. The walking contradiction.

“What about you?” You distract, jabbing a finger at Jimin. Anything to distract from you. “Who's the girl with the mad blowie game?”

Jimin whines, covering his face. “No one.”

“Oh, no one?” Jungkook finally speaks. He always joins in when it’s a chance to tease Jimin. “Just some girl who fucked your brains out, and you literally haven’t stopped texting her?”

Your jaw drops. Even then, Jimin checks his phone as it lights up. You scoff, “Are you fucking serious? Over here spitting hook up this and one night stand that and you’ve been snagged?”

Jimin whines and tips over, rolling on the floor. “Don’t talk about it! I won’t admit it! She’s just… really cute.”

You cannot believe what is happening in front of you. Here you are, back in the game, and here’s Jimin, actually snared by someone.

Your phone buzzing interrupts any further interrogation. 

_Your Angel, Your Hope_

_Bitch, we work together on Thursday_

_U best come see me b4 then or imma make u clean the bathrooms_

You shudder. Pissed Hoseok scares you more than the employee bathrooms.

But not scary enough to keep you from procrastinating. So here you are, Thursday 3 hours before your shift, outside of the health clinic Hoseok works at.

Okay, but you did come. Ready for work, too. You came to the clinic dressed and ready to not be late to work. Hoseok should be satiated.

You trudge up the steps past the one or two people who seem to have enough cash and free time to spend their days adding guilt to the already terrified teenage girls who walk through the doors.

You haven’t been here in a while. Your thoughts had settled enough to not be irked by the memories of your previous visits. You weren’t going to see Namjoon again. You will be careful not to hurt anyone, including yourself. It was fun, a good memory after a series of poor ones, and you’ll find someone to have a good time with next time you feel like it. No harm, no foul.

The health clinic hasn’t changed a bit. Faded, seafoam green paneling lines the small lobby, and you’re pretty sure the same magazines cover the little coffee tables in the waiting area. File after file after file fills shelves behind the small reception. Anxiety, excitement, and agitation float in the air of the waiting area. You’ve felt all those emotions at some point in this very lobby.

Today, you only feel relaxed. You have a plan, you’re getting checked, and you’re working at your favorite job tonight. Hoseok’s usually up front flitting about with a welcoming smile. But there’s someone else at the desk, back turned as he runs a finger down a row of color-coded files.

Namjoon.

That can’t be Namjoon at the fucking front desk.

But you know it is. You just admired that backside the other day.

As he turns, your body connects the dots before your mind. You spin and power walk to the door. But not before his eyes catch yours, and you see the shock flit across his features.

You grip the handle, yanking the door open, for once finding the protesters a welcomed sight, before a familiar voice yells “Hey, sexpert!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you want to see more Dom or Sub Namjoon :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Namjoon confronts you. You both come to a compromise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCK has it been since February? Sorry guys, this fic is now the #1 priority on my plate. Sorry for the wait.

You are clearly being punished for your sins. There is a god, and he is out to get you.

As you hear Namjoon call out your name, you turn your eyes to the ceiling to pray to any god who is clearly watching you. Since the world doesn’t magically combust and the eyes of everyone in the lobby are boring into your back, you drop your head.

Deep breath.

“Oh, hi!” You respond with probably the worst fake smile plastered on your cheeks.

Namjoon is not smiling. He stops a few feet before you, crossing his arms. Something about his posture makes you defensive, crossing your arms, too. “You going to run again?”

“Huh?” The fake amusement in your voice makes you cringe. You try not to dwell on the fact that the last time you saw him, you fell into a bush before taking off. Your mind, now clear from panic, briefly recalls that he may have even called after you. Fuck. “Haha, good one. What are you doing here?”

“I volunteer here, why are you here?” Namjoon lifts an eyebrow. _To get tested after fucking you._ God, you can’t possibly say that.

“Um, to get tested,” you murmur. The annoyance in Namjoon’s face drops a bit, but he doesn’t move. “What? Are you going to stop me?”

“Huh?” He snaps back, apparently his mind drifting off while you awkwardly face off. “Oh. Well, no, of course not, but,” he straightens again, “is that all you have to say?”

“I, um, I guess?” You ask, not able to look him in the eye anymore. Maybe if you stare at the floor hard enough, you’ll sink through it. “Um, is there a guy named Hoseok here?”

Namjoon’s face goes from mad to surprised. “Hobi?”

“Hobi?” You ask back, surprised to hear his nickname,

Hoseok, at the sound of his name, comes through the back door pilfering through a couple of files. “Hey Joonie, can you--”

As if sensing the tension oozing from the two of you, Hoseok pauses in his tracks. Apparently, you’re both an easy read. Or, the eyes of every patient in the lobby glued on your awkward conversation gives you away. He cuts off and looks at both of you glaring his way.

“You…” his eyes drag from between you and... “Joonie?”

Oh god.

Hoseok falls onto the counter in a fit of laughter, another employee quickly clearing anything that can be knocked out of the way. The eyes of the lobby turn from Hoseok’s giggle-consumed figure to the two of you. 

It clicks. You fucked one of Hoseok’s friends. 

“You fucked my roommate? He was one of them?” Hoseok barely conceals as he comes over. You grit your teeth.

You fucked one of Hoseoks’ _close_ friends. His fucking roommate? How does this happen? How does fate manage to play you like this? You didn’t even know this man. You picked out a perfect stranger and somehow the strings of fate managed to tie him back into your life, into the very thing you were trying to avoid. Maybe it was a sign that you took off running. Maybe you should go again.

“One of?” Namjoon repeats, eyebrow ticking in frustration. You realize you’d already looked over your shoulder at the door. You turn to face him and Hoseok who’s coming around the counter. “You’re telling me you fucked multiple people before getting checked? And you think you can wear that shirt?”

A bit blindsided, you glance down at the _Sexpert_ shirt again. Jesus fucking christ. Hoseok’s grabbing on both your shoulders as laughs completely shake him. He has enough sense to realize that the tension is only growing thicker as the conversation continues. Namjoon’s jaw clicks as his cheeks burn red. Hoseok’s head props back up only to fall into a fit of laughter again.

“Okay,” you say, looking past both of them at the counter. You need to get out of here. “So, it would be great if I could just, you know, get tested and leave.”

“Oh, I forgot you like to run,” Namjoon says, voice dark. You wince a bit, but Hoseok has the complete opposite reaction. “But apparently not read. Or did you drop your phone after you took off? Oh, guess you still have it since you left me _on read_.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Hoseok gasps. “She was… and that means…” he comes in close, which is useless since he asks at full volume in your ear, “Is he the big dick or the good fuck?”

You glare at Hoseok so hard that you hope he lights on fire. This fucking idiot had to connect that dots out loud.

Namjoon drops his arms, shocked as he looks between you two. “Why do I feel insulted either way?”

You stare at the ceiling again, wondering why the gods are not merciful and didn’t kill you first. “Can we talk about this somewhere more private?”

“Oh,” Namjoon’s eyebrow twitches, “Now you wanna talk? You don’t want to take off rambling _nonono_ again?”

Your jaw drops. You were so panicked, you weren’t thinking straight. Namjoon had asked to see you again, and you apparently had dashed from his house chanting _please no_ . You open your mouth to speak but have no idea where to even start. _Hey, sorry, but I flipped my shit. You’re the good fuck. Still don’t want to see you again, though._

“Alright,” Hoseok giggles, putting his hands on both your shoulders. It does nothing to ease the tension, both of you shoving his hands off. You are torn between running and giving Namjoon a piece of your mind. Why the fuck is he so sensitive about this, anyway? “Let’s go get you ready and I’ll see you later.”

Hoseok steers you past Namjoon, sparing you any more of his judgemental stares. But the second you’re out of sight, your body almost sags to the floor. Fuck, why is he everywhere? And why is he right? You can’t even handle a one night stand. Hoseok chuckles as he leads you to a room, and you can’t help but imagine his laughs as a devil on your shoulder, wickedly delighted that you’d been tricked into your old ways again.

You tap on _The_ _Pink Lady’s_ counter a mile a minute. Hoseok flits about, completely unbothered, while you have a mental breakdown at the counter. Namjoon is Hoseok’s fucking roommate. You fucked his fucking roommate. Twice. On Hoseok’s counter. Oh god, you take a glance at Hoseok bidding some rowdy college students goodbye. He knows, he has to know.

“Good grief,” Hoseok tuts, shaking his head as he picks up a couple packages they had dropped. “You’re gonna bend over once you leave this store, but you can’t bend over to put our products back.”

His bend-and-snap drags you from your panic, and you manage a chuckle. Finally having your attention, Hoseok quickly drifts over to the counter again. “So, Joonie was one of your good fucks, huh?”

“Please,” you whine. “I’m sorry. So, can we not here?”

“Oh, please,” Hoseok mimics you with a pout. “Did you say it to Joonie just like that? Before you ran off babbling like a madwoman like he left you cursed or some shit?”

You shove as he starts wiggling and mumbling incoherent thoughts.

“That’s not funny! I freaked the fuck out!” You groan and collapse to the counter. Fuck, you’ll have to clean it again now. All you do is fuck up.

“Just FYI, you aren’t getting paid to have a crisis on the clock,” he says, cocking his chin towards a stack of dancewear that needs hanging. You sigh, lugging the box on the counter. This is what you need. A monotonous task to occupy your mind.

It doesn’t work. You keep looking at Hoseok who is already watching you. You can tell he wants to talk about the same exact thing you are avoiding.

“Hoseok, don’t,” you order.

“Don’t what?” Hoseok asks, checking that the store is empty before he scoots on over to help you. “Don’t ask about you fucking my roommate? Well, I’m not going to ask. I already know how it went. I don’t need a play by play from both sides.”

You hang onto the rack, lowering your head. “I just…” you trail off, not even sure of just what.

“This is a prime opportunity, doll,” Hoseok taps your shoulder with a hanger to remind you that you are, in fact, working right now. “What do you want to know?”

“What?” you ask. That’s not what you meant.

“I just mean,” Hoseok starts, focusing way too hard on his task so you know he’s trying to be nonchalant, “if you want to know more about him, maybe trade dirty details, I could tell you about him.”

You eye Hoseok. You have to admit, in the chaos of panic, you are interested. In a self-hating kind of way to know who this guy is.

“Okay,” you say after you mishang the straps of a bikini top three times. “You cannot tell him I’m asking but…”

“Of course not,” Hoseok drags out, already hopping on the counter to engage in the breakdown. “Just like I won’t tell you he has already asked about you.”

Your jaw drops. He’s going to tell Namjoon regardless.

Fuck it, you already started. You trust Hoseok enough not to divulge your exact thoughts. “What is he like?”

“Oh, honey,” Hoseok wiggles his eyebrows, “don’t you already know?”

You roll your eyes. “ _Not_ like that. Who the fuck is he?”

What you really want to say is how the fuck does this guy keep popping up in your life, and why… why is he taking up all the space in your brain?

“Joonie’s a daddy,” Hoseok says, rubbing his chin. You snort. Not the last time you saw him. 

“Oh?” Hoseok’s grin turns dark. “What’s that?”

You school your face and deflect, “How do you know that?”

“Well, how do I meet all of my roommates? He was a fuck first.”

You drop the hanger. “He’s bi?”

“Definitely,” Hoseok says.

“And he was a hookup?” You clarify, hand on your hip. “He told me he doesn’t usually hook up!”

“Uh, he probably meant with women,” Hoseok says. “He’s definitely brought guys home, but… he may or may not have been a little smitten by you.”

“Oh god,” you groan. Everything’s happening again. Smitten by you. He’s a friend of a friend he already likes you.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Hoseok claps his hands in front of your face.”Not like that. It’s just been a while since there’s been a woman around.”

Hoseok leans in close. “Now that I think about it-”

“You definitely look like you did not just think of this,” you sigh as the smile grows bigger on Hoseok’s face.

“Shush,” he says, “I was _going_ to say, you and Joonie are kind of similar. With the whole only fucks no loves.”

You curse the fact that your senses prick at that. A little glimmer of hope for a scenario you don’t need to consider. Not happening. No, stop.

“Okay, but what about _him_?” You ask. “All I know is he’s got serious dick game.”

“Big mood,” Hoseok agrees. “Well, the daddy comment goes both ways. As in, he can be both a domdaddy and just a dumb dad. He likes books, has a bad sense of direction, can be a real grandpa sometimes. He’s really cute, really.” Hoseok chuckles like he’s remembering something. “He works parttime at a finance firm downtown, is taking philosophy classes, and produces some.”

“Is there anything he doesn’t do?” You scoff. What a fucking perfect person. And Hoseok thinks you’re similar?

“Uh, yeah,” Hoseok’s face gets stony. “Hit and run.”

You blush. “Okay, I deserve that.”

Admitting your fault, Hoseok softens a bit. “I know we both tend to be fuckups, but that didn’t sound like you.”

You sigh. “I… it’s just, he asked to see me again.”

“That sounds good?” Hoseok asks. He pats the counter next to him, but you sit on the floor.

“It’s… Hoseok, I’m trying to be better,” you whisper. Here, where you divulge all your sexcapades with Hoseok, it somehow feels comforting to discuss your worries as well. “I was trying to just, you know, fuck. And now, it’s happening again.”

“You mean because he’s my roommate?” Hoseok asks.

“Yes,” you say, realizing it seems childish.

“Look,” Hoseok says. Then, when you start picking at the carpet, he clarifies, “No, I mean, look at me.” 

You glance up. Hoseok has one of his rare serious faces on. “Babe, I know you. I also know Namjoon. And yes, I like to get in the middle of things, but I’m saying I don’t think this is abad thing. And also, I think this isn’t the _same_ thing. Yes, Namjoon and you were already connected, but you didn’t know it. Don’t stunt your growth because of that.”

“It makes me uncomfortable when I remember you aren’t a ridiculous asshat all the time,” you grumble, trying to avoid the butterflies that alight in your chest at his kind words.

Hoseok chuckles, but then he continues, “He’s one of those people that has to be busy all the time. Needs a project. Kind of… like you. He makes himself his project like you. And I don’t think things would go to shit friend group-wise if you two saw each other casually. You wouldn’t lose everyone again.”

You level Hoseok with a warning. “Stop.”

He holds his hands up, sliding off the counter. “I’m just saying,” he sings to the wag of his fingers. “Maybe it would work with him.”

“Mhm, yeah,” you mutter, strapping a thong a bit too aggressively onto a hanger and getting back up. You’re pissed at the way your heart raced a bit at that. Namjoon was a great fuck. Both times. “That doesn’t clear the fact that he’s clearly upset with me.”

“You know, even though he’s mad, Joonie’s clearly intrigued,” Hoseok says, wandering over to pluck some hangers from you. “He asked about you. Maybe you should talk to him. Since you have his number and all.”

“Don’t remind me,” you say. But… you should apologize. To Namjoon, what you did was fucked up. Even if he was an asshole, he had a reason to be. He clearly hadn’t been before. “Maybe I’ll just text him an apology.”

“Text?” Hoseok says, popping up from a rack of panties. “Babe, you can’t just text ‘sorry’ like a butthurt teen. You got to say that in person. Especially since the issue is you left him alone.”

You grumble at Hoseok. That’s a point, even though you’re pretty sure he just wants you two to meet again.

It bothers you all shift, which conveniently lacks customers. Even Taehyung doesn’t stop by to distract Hoseok. It allows Hoseok to continuously drop little comments about how you should be a bigger person and more facts about Namjoon, like his affinity for small plants and Monie’s instagram account, which is not helping the rational side of your brain just consider this an issue of apologizing or not.

“I’m just saying,” Hoseok says again as you both lock up the store. “For someone mad about people not being honest or owning up to shit, I’ll be disappointed if you can’t handle this like a responsible adult.”

Well fuck.

You knew he waited til the end of work to give the final blow. Pulling out the adulting card and the honesty guilt trip. He knew that had been your greatest qualm of getting back into the swing of your old life. That no one is ever honest. And here you are, not exactly running away but skirting the edges of fucking up something already fucked up.

You groan as you step through the door to your house and hear the TV. You’re just ready to get in bed. You don’t even want to say goodnight to Jungkook. But when you round the corner, Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin are all passed out on the couch. They’re a tangle of limbs, Taehyung pressed between the two boys whose legs swing any which way.

You snicker and snap a picture in the low glow of the TV and sending it to Hoseok.

_You_

_[image]_

_All the cuties_

_Hoseok_

_Awh_

_Its illegal for so many hot people to be friends :(_

You roll your eyes. Like Hoseok and Namjoon aren’t their own hot-friend pair.

Ugh. You grimace, annoyed that you just acknowledged Hoseok and Namjoon together and Namjoon being hot. Which he is. God, he’s hot. And when he was angry earlier today, you may have been panicked, but a small part of you wanted to see what happened if you pissed him off more. What would happen if he channeled that energy towards more productive activities?

The buzz of your phone pulls you from your thoughts as you drop everything in your room. You shake your head, clearly exhausted if your horniness is overtaking common sense.

_Hoseok_

_Anyone in ur house is welcome on our couch anytime_

_;)_

_Joonie says u havent texted him :(_

You drop your phone on your bed and follow after it. Fuck Hoseok. What a troublemaker. But still, you wonder if Namjoon brought it up or if Hoseok did.

He probably didn’t. Like you said, he seemed genuinely upset. You groan, rubbing at your eyes. Shit. You’d rocketed out of his place. Of Hoseok’s place. 

When you open your eyes again, the first thing you see is Namjoon’s socks wadded up by your closet door. Socks from a guy who just keeps sneaking up in your life.

You’re going to have to do something. You aren’t the same person as before. You won’t be. You are going to clear the air. That’s the only reason you’re texting him.

And… maybe a little bit because Hoseok has you intrigued.

_You_

_Hey_

_Can we talk?_

* * *

A few days later, you find yourself knocking on Namjoon and Hoseok’s door. You hope it’s loud enough. Someone has to come to the door before you think better of this and take off from this doorstep again.

Hoseok answers the door, which catches you off guard. You thought he’d be at work. It’s specifically why you chose this time. “Oh, um… I’m actually looking for…”

“Mhm, I know,” Hoseok says. He gives you the up-down. “Please lysol the counter this time.”

Your cheeks burn as Hoseok side-steps to head off to work. You watch him for a second. Your feet want to chase after him and away from the awkward conversation inside. Still, you turn back and step in.

“Hi,” Namjoon greets you. He stands at the counter he’d fucked you on, dressed in a matching blue outfit that swallowed his frame. He kind of looks like a yogi, save for the honey-bleached hair.

“Ah,” you can’t look at him. Everything about his expression is strained, the sides of his cheeks sucked in to appraise you. It reminds you of how easily you could give him control. “Hi.”

You look for some kind of relief, a conversation opener. You know Monie has to be somewhere in the house, but you only see remnants of his white fur on the couch in the living room. “Where’s Monie?”

Namjoon looks off down the adjacent hall. “He doesn’t want to see you right now.”

Your shoulders sag under the guilt. Honestly, Monie watching you fuck may have been the most mortifying. “I understand. I’m surprised you wanted to see me.”

Namjoon shifts on his feet, ready to speak, but he takes it back. He starts again, leaning on the counter. “I had to give you credit for reaching out… and wanting to apologize. Hoseok says that’s quite the rarity coming from you.”

You sputter. That asshole. “What else did he say about me?”

“Probably as much as he told you about me,” Namjoon answers. “Except I told him to say what he wanted. I didn’t tell him to keep it a secret.”

You wince a bit at his tone. You don’t know if you want to push it. Namjoon saves you the trouble, sitting at the kitchen table. You quickly take the chance to sit, too.

He doesn’t speak, though. He just watches you. You try to do the same, but you can’t help shuffling in your seat a bit. There’s nothing in the kitchen to draw your attention, no sounds except the cars passing outside. Namjoon seems content with your discomfort, and you know he has the right to be. Eventually, you know you have to speak. You are here to apologize.

“Look,” you take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize-- I mean, I started panicking… not that it’s an excuse but-- what I mean…” you run your hands through your hair and glare at the tabletop, “I’m sorry.”

The silence resumes. You play with your fingers while you wait for Namjoon to give you any kind of response. When none comes, you look up to see Namjoon’s still just staring at you, face unreadable. You widen your eyes, trying to urge him to speak.

“I’m not sure I want to accept that apology,” Namjoon finally says. You shrink in your seat. “But it’s because honestly, we were both in the wrong.”

“What?” That’s not what you were expecting, though you definitely had your qualms about him.

“I didn’t voice my needs or come after you. And, I shouldn’t have demonized you simply because of your job at the sex store. Just because you have knowledge doesn’t mean you’ll always apply it. I know that for sure,” Namjoon mumbles, staring at his open hands on the table like the story he’s referencing is written on his palms.

Oh, that’s… that wasn’t what you were expecting again. You aren’t sure what you were expecting. But now that you have the floor, you bring up something else that’s bothered you.

“You also lied,” you sneak in, still a bit peeved about what Hoseok told you the night before. “Do you always tell people you’re fucking that it’s something new? Is that some weird kind of good-guy tactic?”

Namjoon’s eyes widen, then he’s ducking his head as he rubs at the back of his neck. “Oh, that… with a woman, yes.”

That pisses you off. Sounds like the assholes at your law firm trying to find loopholes. “All about the fine print, I see.”

“I didn’t mean to seem like a liar,” Namjoon emphasizes. “I said I’d been wrong, too. I’m always honest. Painfully so. By being honest I can show the real me and sometimes that means something ugly, something painfully part of being human. And I apologize for it.”

You balk. “Wow, you really are a philosophy student. And an office man? And a producer?”

“Yes, and that’s the reason I was there that night,” Namjoon continues. “I was only there because of a song I produced being released. And you… you looked amazing on the dance floor. You looked free. Happy. Relieved. While _my_ song was playing. I liked it. I wanted to dance with you. I wanted to fuck you. And when I had you on your back and you were fucking whining...”

You blush, looking away. “Okay, I see the honesty thing.”

“Well, I’m glad you came because…” Namjoon continues, placing his hands on the table, “I have a proposition for you.”

You stiffen.

“Hoseok’s quite a loudmouth, isn’t he?” Namjoon asks. You nod. “I guess he told you what he told me. That we’d be a good match of sorts.”

“Wow,” you say, not sure what else. You know where this is going.

“Hoseok told me about your past.”

Bingo. You give a wry smile. “And?”

“He said that you aren’t much of a relationship person.”

You let out a breath. Okay, not bad coming from the man who could write an autobiography of your sexcapades. He could have said worse. “Is that it?”

“Was there more?” Namjoon asks, eyes narrowing.

“No, that’s it,” you bluff.

“Well,” Namjoon’s grin is mischevious, “He also mentioned you think you’re hot shit and everyone is in love with you.”

Motherfucker.

Namjoon straightens up again. “I think there was a reason we were drawn to each other. We’d be a good match.”

“Yeah, you said that already, but do you remember the part where you just said I’m not looking for a relationship?” You say, crossing your arms. You feel a bit vulnerable, things bubbling up again. You’ve been in this conversation before. Usually drunk on couches starting with teasing or maybe a late night talk alone.

“Not like that,” Namjoon rushes. “As in, for a mutually beneficial relationship. I’ve got a lot going on. And I need a release. But I’m not looking for love. It’s far too complex to tackle right now. I’m looking for a release and an opportunity to explore sex as a… craft, per say.”

“A craft?” You ask. Okay, that’s not quite what you’ve heard before.

“I’m not really sure how to explain it but,” his hands gesticulate in front of him, like he can mold his thoughts from the air. Wow, he has pretty fingers. “I’ve been a lot of people. The being, the self, it’s constantly in flux. And when I found that I could be more than one version of myself with you, I was interested in how we could learn about ourselves through each other. And, well, we match pretty well. In any sexual scenario, it seems.”.

You quirk your head. It’s a lot of prosey bullshit, but somehow, you can relate to it. You’d been obsessive because you were torn by how Namjoon had pulled something different out of you. “If you take all the poetics away, you mean you want to be fuck buddies?”

“Yes,” Namjoon says. Despite your hesitance, your body betrays you and your stomach twist anxiously. “But… trust and communication. Those are necessary. ”

“That’s what I’m looking for,” you agree.

“Not quite. If you run like that,” Namjoon points to the door, “that’s not trust. That’s not communication. That’s building a rift. That’s leaving me floating in a really insecure space. Especially after opening up to myself like that in that… situation.”

“What do you mean by “that” situation?” you ask, thinking of the several predicaments the two of you have already been in. Fuck, you didn’t reject his offer. You fucking inquired deeper into it.

“I’ve never,” he clears his throat as his voice cracks, “I’ve never had someone do that without asking for it.” 

“Do what?” you ask, thinking of the very many things you’ve both done.

“Called me a good boy and, um, taken control,” Namjoon clarifies. His big words and lofty thoughts diminish at the confession. “It’s, um, usually something I trust people with not on the first go round.”

“Oh, well, that’s kind of my go to,” your mouth twitches a bit, remembering how he’d crumbled so quickly. “Well, not exactly babying, but it’s easier for me to get what I want if I’m in charge.”

“I see,” Namjoon says after a moment, peeling at a corner of the table. “When you took off like that, it left me in an uncomfortable place. You literally fled while I was still recovering. And then seemed like you were really freaked out by it. Then refused to answer me when I tried to reach out.”

You deflate. He’s right. You’d really fucked up. “I know. I really am sorry. But… Hoseok told you I’ve had a rough time with relationships and people. I panicked and I ran. It wasn’t because of you. It was because of… things that have happened. I’m usually in charge. And when you responded so well, I took to it.” You sigh, feeling the weight lift at least getting some of your reasoning out there. “I should have explained, and I won’t do that again.”

“Good, you shouldn’t ever do that,” Namjoon’s voice is firm, but then he softens. “I know talking isn’t your thing and you said you wanted to keep a distance, but that’s kind of fucked up. It leaves people feeling like there was no definitive end, leaves you needing more. No wonder guys caught feelings.”

Your cheeks burn. “Excuse you?”

Namjoons chest rises and falls as he closes his eyes. “Sorry, Hoseok told me everything, actually.”

There’s a pause. It’s a bit awkward, but the solace in Hoseok’s loud mouth brings you both back to even ground. You blush nervously again. He’s right. Even if you have your reasons, that looked pretty shitty. But above all, there was something bigger you had to consider here. You’re about to step into territory you swore off. That you knew couldn’t work. Wouldn’t work. Hasn’t worked.

But…

This is different. Namjoon isn’t your friend. He’s a guy you fucked twice, and they were great fucks. And your friends, or Hoseok at least, actually approve of this. It’s different circumstances. No one’s shaking their head before you even start. It might be the actual right circumstances for this kind of thing. And Hoseok as well as Namjoon have emphasized that this is clearly platonic. 

Maybe that’s why it had occupied your thoughts. Not that Namjoon had something special or had pissed you off, but that this was actually something manageable. Maybe this could work.

And you really, really want sex again.

“As long as we follow the rules…” you start.

“Okay,” Namjoon says, immediately nodding. His eagerness both thrills and concerns you. “I can do rules. But remember, we have to be honest.”

“Honesty,” you repeat. “As in, you have to be truthful if you start to catch feelings.”

Namjoon snorts. “Wow, quite presumptuous.”

“I mean anything,” you clarify, ignoring his sass. “For me, for someone else.”

“Okay,” Namjoon agrees. “This involves our body and minds, and we should be respectful of those.”

You try not to roll your eyes. Maybe, maybe this could work. Maybe you’d been making shitty choices, but this was a safe way to ease back in. Maybe that’s the pull he has. This could work, right?

“So…” you rack your brain. “Obviously, safe words?”

“Color system?” Namjoon suggests.

“Green, yellow, red, sounds good,” you answer. Your heart is racing already. Your fingers itching on the counter. This was a quick turn. The anxious nerves quickly transitioned into anticipation.

“Hoseok said you can be quite bossy,” Namjoon starts next.

“Fuck, he just runs his mouth doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Namjoon laughs. “So do you.”

Your smile darkens a bit at that. Yes, indeed. “You like dirty talk?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon says again, leaning closer across the table.

“Want me to talk dirty about that fat cock in your jeans?” You say, suddenly desperate for the opportunity. It isn’t hard, you’ve tried to stop thinking about him since you walked in. Since you first fucked him.

“That’d be nice,” Namjoon muses with hooded lids.

“Yeah?” You say, scooting close enough to have your hand on his thigh. Namjoon blinks again like he’s trying to focus. The dark gaze lifts only to settle back again as he licks his lips and draws your attention there.

“Kissing you was nice,” you comment, leaning in a bit more.

“Having my mouth in other places was nicer,” Namjoon teases.

“I’d like that,” you hum, almost closing the distance between you two. Fuck, he still smells good. You wonder if he’ll taste like champagne again.

“What about your list?” Namjoon asks, his lips brushing yours. His stare levels against yours, not giving in. It makes you feel warm, remembering those eyes from that night, and fuck it if you don’t want him to fight you to have you on your back again.

“This seems like something that might be better handled with a demonstration,” you suggest, fingers dancing along his forearm.

Namjoon nods. The slightest movement causes his lips to brush yours. It sends a spark from your mouth down your spine, and within seconds your both launching over the table. Hands in hair, teeth clacking, grabbing at clothing. It’s a release, but not enough. So much building in different ways since you were last in this kitchen. The memory has you biting as Namjoon’s plump bottom lip, and he moans as he clenches his fist in your hair. His hot, wet mouth moves down your jaw, and you angle your head to give him room before you catch sight of the counter.

“Wait,” you breathe. “Hoseok said no in the kitchen.”

“Last time I offered my bedroom, you fucked me on that counter,” Namjoon murmurs against your lips, pulling you closer.

“Show me the way,” you say with a coy smile, mouth still closing in on his as you stand. With some reluctance, Namjoon stands.

The mood dies down a bit. It’s broad daylight as you walk back to his room, and the sounds of cars and people passing by can be heard. It’s not the same emotionally charged or nightly-guised situations as before.

And Namjoon’s room definitely isn’t setting the mood.

“Holy shit, it’s so… green,” you say. Any space that isn’t wooden furniture or the bed is littered with books and plants. It looks more like a terrarium than a bedroom. The only thing you can recognize are the potted elephant plants standing guard at the desk.

“That’s not the usual reaction I get,” Namjoon chuckles, sitting on his couch. A fucking couch in the bedroom. Honestly, the bedroom itself is big enough to be an office and a bedroom, which Namjoon has taken advantage of. 

You walk over, running your fingers along the spines of books stacked on his desk. You eye the plants on his windowsill. “Plants and a dog. Lots of responsibility.”

“Yeah,” Namjoon says, stretching his arms on either side of the couch. “Might as well add taking care of you.”

You cock an eyebrow. “That was a bad joke.”

“I thought so…” Namjoon chuckles quietly. It’s a glimpse of that shyness you saw a few times, and it stirs something in your gut. But when he clears his throat and glances back up, lips parted and eyes focused, your heart’s set a flutter. “Shall we continue with the demonstration?”

You lean into your hip, eyeing how relaxed he is on the couch. “What are you supposed to achieve from there?”

Namjoon laughs. It’s short, a tad condescending, as he spreads his legs a bit wider. You can’t help taking in the bulge growing in his pants. “Why don’t you tell me what you like?”

He nods his chin towards the bed. You flush a bit as he jumps straight to it. It’s too awkward to just masturbate in front him. You eye his lap again and have a better idea. 

“Are you as good with your hands as you are that mouth?” you ask.

“I could be,” Namjoon hums, his gaze dipping down. “If you wanted to show me.”

“Can I sit?” you ask, stepping in between Namjoon’s legs.

Namjoon nods eagerly. But he squeaks a bit when you turn, steadily placing your knees on either side of his thighs on the couch. You grab one of his wrists and give him a wink. “Want some hands on instruction?”

Namjoon straightens, other hand wrapping around one of your thighs. “Yes.”

You turn back to the front, gently leaning back onto Namjoon’s chest. He feels so broad beneath you, his grip on your thigh secure, his other hand limp as you guide him to the top of your pants. 

You undo your pants enough for both your hands to slip inside. Your head rolls back onto Namjoon’s shoulder and you feel his chest sink with a sigh as his palm moves under yours towards your heat.

He lets out a shuddering breath as you rest it there, feeling his fingers dip into your folds. Naturally, your hips move a bit, begging for a bit more attention. His hot breath ghosts over your neck as he says, “Show me.”

You shiver, your hand grabbing onto his. You shift your hips again, letting Namjoon’s fingers slip over your clit, but he grabs your hip.

“No,” Namjoon says, rolling his shoulders beneath you.

“What?” you ask, turning to look at him. But his eyes are looking down your body, at his hand in your pants.

“Teach me exactly how you need it,” Namjoon’s lips brush the nape of your neck as he speaks, tucking in to watch you work.

If only you’d ever had a man make such a request, but there’s something oddly vulnerable about it. You rocked your hips, but Namjoon’s fingers didn’t move. You whined. It felt so good. Half an hour of tension and flirting and finally, finally some relief. You pressed your fingers against him, and the pressure naturally followed. You couldn’t help but sigh in relief, the need for pleasure overrunning your senses as you guided the pressure and friction of Namjoon’s fingers.

“You sound so pretty,” Namjoon murmurs. You rolled your hips again and with a gleeful moan felt Namjoon’s erection against your ass. You continued to rock your hips, trading between the sensation of Namjoon’s fingers and his hardening member. As your excitement built, you curled your fingers and found Namjoon’s going with yours, rolling your clit with small figure eights. Namjoon’s teeth scraped against the base of your neck and you whined louder, grinding your ass against his cock.

“Harder,” you whined, needing more pressure, forgetting it was your own hand. But Namjoon listened. When he pushed down, his finger slipped to the side. You whined, rolling your hips side to side, in small circles, mimicking the figure-eight motion. “Fuck,” you whined.

“Doing such a good job,” Namjoon murmurs, breaking you from your concentration and letting his hand relax to your pace again. You whine, remembering you’re in charge. “Feel good?”

“So good,” you nod, shifting to give yourself more leverage. Namjoon grunts when your free hand grabs the back of his neck. Shit, you want him to just fuck you. To curl his fingers deep inside and grind his palm into your clit.

“Joon, please,” you whine.

“You want it bad, huh?” Namjoon teases. When you don’t answer, he puls the collar of your shirt, sucking on your neck. You gasp, urging his hand to dip lower.

“Yes,” you desperately need it.

“How bad?” Namjoon asks, pushing his fingers inside finally.

“Bad,” you say, trying to press his palm to your mound. He understands and presses hard, fingers curling, just like you wished.

Namjoon sighs when you drop your weight onto him completely. “Just bad?”

His hand starts to pull back, and you snatch his wrist, holding it in place. “So bad, Namjoon. I need it so bad. Give it to me.”

“Fuck, babe,” Namjoon’s voice is deep, almost a growl in your ear. He rocks his palm, letting the subtle motion of your hips and his grip give you what you need. It’s this, you realize. There’s something secure about him. Something confident that’s also comfortable, and it’s letting you feel like you can trust him enough to take charge. You need him to take charge.

“Feels so fucking good,” you whine, bitting your lips as your hips rock faster, so close.

“Just like this?” He asks, starting to twist his palms and finger in time. You cry out, caught off by the extra sensation.

You swear, fingers tight in his hair, urging him to play rougher, and he does. His palm practically vibrates as he wraps a hand around your waist, teeth grazing your ear. You can feel each tendon on the back of his palm flex as he works you over. His heavy breaths pant in your ear as you squeeze your eyes close and feel your orgasm build as you gasp for a breath.

“Shit, I can feel it,” Namjoon mutters, and your walls seize up around his fingers, body rocking into his touch then immediately dipping away as your orgasm hits. You gasp and whimper as Namjoon refuses to stop, just groaning with you like your pleasure is his own.

You go to grab his wrist, needing relief from the grinding on your clit, dragging it from your pants and feeling your wetness trace over your hip where he holds you still.

“Wow,” you say, swallowing in air. “Nice work.”

Namjoon snorts. You give a short laugh. You aren’t sure what else to say. Now that the high is coming down, you’re reeling from the fact that once again, you just wanted to concede to Namjoon. To let him have control and pleasure you and take anything he’d give.

You lean forward and Namjoon swallows a moan. As you look back, you see his eyes on your ass, grinding on his clothed cock.

“Guess it’s my turn?” You ask, shaking your hips again. Namjoon’s head drops back, lip caught between his teeth.

“What do you want to know?” He asks, voice husky.

“I don’t need to know,” you say, sliding off his lap and onto your knees. God, since the first night you saw him, you’ve wanted that cock in your mouth. And you know that wanting it bad enough is just what a man wants to see when a woman’s mouth is inches from his cock, like right now.

“You think you know what a man wants?” Namjoon teases like he read your mind, but his chest is heaving with anxious breath.

“I don’t care what you want,” you sass and hold his cock in your hands. “I’ll show you what you want.”

Namjoon’s lips part as you take his cock into the back of your throat, immediately wrapping your lips around the middle and sucking hard. His fingers scratch at your scalp as he throws his head back, only to look back down when you pull off to rub the head over your tongue. The spit in your mouth from taking him in the back of your throat drips onto his cock, and you use it to lather your grip before sinking back down again.

“Holy shit,” Namjoon gasps, legs twitching as you alternate between shallow sucks and deep dives. You smile, the shape of your mouth causing you to slurp loudly. “I should fucking film this.”

You hum in response, twisting your wrist as you focus on the head. Namjoon’s hips rut into your arms, so you press down harder, burying your face into his abdomen as you try to swallow around the fathead. He groans, pulling on your hair hard to try and get some relief from the onslaught of stimulation.

But instead, you just pop one of his balls into your mouth. Your wrist twists over the head, and you revel in the way he swears above you. You return to his shaft and watch him with batted lashes as his jaw juts out at the tightening of your fist around the base.

“Shit, you know how to suck a cock,” Namjoon mutters, words cut off by gasps and whimpers. You nod, tongue working the underside of his cock as you sink back down. You work him through it, loving the way his eyebrows pinch on your tighter grip. He wets his lips whenever you show mercy with light kisses to the head, but the sight of his own teeth marks in his bottom lip spur you on again.

As you sink down, stroking fast while you suckle at the head, Namjoon’s tugging at your hair. “Wait, I’m going to--” you swat at his hand with your free one, opening the back of your throat at the warning. Namjoon’s deep, throaty grunts vibrate in his gut as the salty taste of semen pelts the back of your tongue.

You don’t even want to swallow, letting it make a mess of your lips as it seeps out because it’s been so long since you’ve tasted a man’s cum in your mouth. You savor it, finally swallow only to suck Namjoon dry. You milk his cock, taking the last drops as you hold the head between your lips and lap slowly as you lazily stroke him.

When he finally pulls you off with a quiet, “stop,” you lick your lips and swallow again, smiling triumphantly up at him.

“That was insane,” he says, hand cupping the underside of your chin. He watches your tongue do one last lick of your lips for anything you missed, mesmerized as you pop back up to sit next to him.

“Mm, wasn’t it?” You tease, propping your arm on the back of the couch.

He laughs, letting his head fall back. You start to adjust your pants, ready to go now that the fun is over, but Namjoon grabs your wrist.

“Gonna be hard to run away from the back of the house,” he teases. He still looks fucked out, chest rising and falling and his smirk a little lazy.

“Seriously?” you whine. You feel uncomfortable. It’s weird. “What are we supposed to do? Talk? An analysis of my dick sucking skills or your hand down my pants?”

“That’s an option,” Namjoon says, nodding. You can’t believe he took that seriously. “For one, that was fucking great. Wouldn’t mind a slower approach though.”

“Are you going to give it a star rating as well?” you ask, sitting forward.

“What about me?” Namjoon asks. You roll your head to him and his gaze is genuine, wanting to know. “Was that good?”

Fuck yes, it was. But you aren’t going to give in that easily. “Well, I guess we’ll have to see when I’m not telling you what to do.”

“I thought you liked being in charge,” Namjoon teases. Oh god, you’re horny again. You swing your leg over his lap and plop down, enjoying the way he hisses at the pressure on his wilting dick.

“I like a man who knows what he’s doing, too,” you say. Because honestly, that seemed to be it. Namjoon knew what to ask for and how to read you. Whether it’s confidence or his philosophical bullshit, it’s something you weren’t used to.

You kiss his lips, kiss-bitten from his blowjob. This is good. No talking, just touching. He holds you there, a warm palm on the back of your neck, and kisses a bit deeper, before pulling away and chuckling a bit. “We’ll have to tell Monie I’m fucking the babysitter.”

“Oh,” you gasp, looking around. Nothing in here is white, no where for Monie to camouflage. “Is he really mad at me?”

“I was just being an asshole,” Namjoon shrugs. “He’s at the groomers.”

You smile weakly. “He may feel betrayed. He thought he was my only good boy.”

Namjoon’s eyes darken a bit, hand tightening on your neck. “Not yet.”

You nod, looking away bashful. You fucked up. He’d dropped his guard and you took off. Even if you cleared the air, you understood if the two things were still a fresh association. “Okay, got it.”

Namjoon nods, hands drifting under your shirt again. You glance at the little plants on Namjoon’s window sill. You could never manage all this green. You barely remember to take your birth control pills, let alone water some plants.

“That reminds me,” you say aloud. “You forgot your socks.”

“Huh?” Namjoon asks, apparently lost in the softness of your skin.

“You left your socks the night we met,” you clarify. “Oh shit, I left them at home.”

“Well,” Namjoon smiles, “guess I need to get those back.”

“You do,” you agree, nodding quickly. You’re ready to have that cock in you and see what Namjoon learned today.

“Could I pick them up this Saturday?” Namjoon asks.

Another meeting. More like an appointment. That’s good. Very cordial. Not asking for dinner or drinks. Asking for socks… and a fuck.

“Saturday night sounds good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favorite SubbyJoon will be back next chapter :D!


	5. Chapter 5

Saturdays become “the day.” You both had it off somehow- the most coveted free day in the week. 

It’s easy. Way easier than you expected.

You text about sex and how work sucks so bad that you need sex. It seems like you and Namjoon have similar life situations, being unsatisfied with your current jobs. But Namjoon knows where he wants to go with his life, and you don’t.

At least you both know you want to fuck each other, and you could look forward to that at the end of every week.

And Namjoon always made it worthwhile. His sex-craft honing was not a joke. Every week, he’s eager to try something new. You even find yourself popping open bizarre Google pages at times, exploring what other ways he could spin you around and upside down.

“Off to the boytoy?” Jungkook asks Saturday night, eyeing your outfit.

“Off to your fapshack?” you counter, nodding towards Jungkook’s room where the lights from his multiple desktops color the room blue.

“Very funny,” Jungkook murmurs, shoving you aside to open the fridge. He takes out a beer, pausing as he brings it to his lips. “Tae’s coming over.”

You nod. Jungkook stares a moment more, then takes a sip. “Are we going to meet this FWB?”

“No,” you say immediately, picking up your bag.

“Why not?” Jungkook asks as he follows you to the door.

“Because he’s not a _friend_ with benefits,” you explain. “Not a friend. Just a fuckbuddy.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, unconvinced. Fine, he has a reason not to be. But you’re convinced. It’s been a month of this back and forth. Everything is fine. It’s all been good. 

Except for Namjoon’s little chats, as you’ve come to call them. He manages to keep you around each time, and for some reason, you stay.

“Have you figured things out with your boss yet?” Namjoon asks today, panting on top of the covers next to you. You twirl them around yourself, not as hot-blooded as him, and frown. You were still coming down yourself, thighs already feeling sore. You are pretty sure you do not stretch enough to have your knees by your ears.

“I don’t want to talk about me,” you argue for the millionth time.

“But it’s not about you,” Namjoon says for also the millionth time. His argument isn't convincing- that these small sessions can help maintain a balanced relationship- yet he seems to get you talking each time. It’s hard not to. Something about the way he waits patiently, eyes tilted up in a smile, lips spread thin with an encouraging smile, always has you sighing and answering whatever dumb question he has. You’ve actually searched to see if he has some book of “post-sex topics” lying around.

“It’s not getting better,” you say. Namjoon gives you a sympathetic frown. Work has been rough recently. Like they know you hate it there. Sitting at a desk was never the job you desired, but it’s all you have until you figure out exactly what you want. The lawyer you worked with had gone off when he came to the front and saw you checking your phone. He was pissed you’d been checking your dog walking app on the clock. There’s no rule against checking your phone. And honestly, if the man isn’t going to pay you enough to survive without it, how could he be so upset? “I think he’s trying to bully me into quitting or something. Patty loves me, so she makes it tolerable. But he’s such a piece of work.”

“Must be tough,” Namjoon says. A small crease forms on his brow, his frown appearing all the more genuine because of it. You fight back a smile. It’s dumb. He just makes small comments like this, but the validation gets to you every time. Makes you feel happy. Makes things easy.

“So,” you say, tracing your fingers down the many fonts and phrases tattooed onto Namjoon’s side. Unlike him, you’d been trying to save your conversation topics each week to avoid using them all up and having to talk about yourself. You realize Namjoon is a ranter, so sometimes if you pick right, you can get him going long enough until he’ll let you leave without side remarks. “What’s up with the font settings?”

“The what?” Namjoon tucks his chin, watching where your fingers trace over his ribs. “Oh, that.”

He smiles softly, replacing your fingers to trace over them himself. Seeing those delicate hands on his own skin has you feeling some type of way again.

“For every song I work on, I get something tattooed on me related to it. I don’t know, this is a big expanse of skin, so it kind of became a list here. I like it. Kind of like a track record, but also motivation and encouragement to myself. Like ‘hey, you are working towards your goal, you’re achieving something, you’re doing great’,” he says.

“Can I read them?” you ask, intrigued by what motivates him. He nods, of course, rolling more onto his side as you sit up.

“The fonts are kind of at random. Just wanted them to stand out,” Namjoon says, giggling a bit at your ticklish fingers.

You read over some of the lines like  _ light shines through the darkness, only I could console myself,  _ and  _ the route I took I forgot _ .  They are introspective and reflect nature, similar to Namjoon himself. But one lyric catches your attention:  _ Everybody says it so easily though you don't know what it is _ .

“Ah,” you say. These words tug at your mind, sounding familiar but a bit melancholic. You aren’t sure why. “ _ Everybody says it so easily, though you don’t know what it is. _ ”

“Oh those,” Namjoon chuckles a bit. “That one’s actually a bit late. I worked on that song in college with someone. Just took me a while to get around to putting it on me.”

“Why?” You ask.

“What’s this?” Namjoon turns, a dumb smile on his face. A dumb smile that shows off his perfect teeth and those dimples. “Are you actually interested in learning more about me?”

“Shut up,” you say. “No, don’t actually. Tell me.”

Namjoon laughs, a deep, comfortable sound, then glances at the ceiling like the story is written up there. “The person I worked with… we had a difficult relationship. I didn’t know if I wanted to forget the project or remember it. But eventually, I had to come to terms with it. With my past. With the person it made me. Because technically, that’s the first major song I produced.”

You nod. Again, you find yourself relating to Namjoon. Like he’s a step ahead of the person you want to be. There are things you are only just now coming to terms with. Things you still want to ignore. Things you still need to face.

“I wonder if a tattoo would solve my problems,” you mumble.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Namjoon says, not realizing it was more directed at yourself. “Only you can solve your problems. Through reflection and acceptance.”

“Was that this week’s lesson in Philosophy 101?” you tease. 

Namjoon smiles, pulling you back down in bed next to him. “Actually, it was from a TED Talk.”

His hand slides over your chest, down your stomach, and to your core. “Want me to tell you about it?”

You laugh, nestling into the bed and staring at him with faux-fascination. “Of course, professor.”

“Not quite yet,” Namjoon chuckles. He tugs you closer, warm, soft fingers traveling over your damp skin. “We’re studying feminist theory right now.”

“Of course, you’re a feminist,” you grumble, breath hitching a bit as the back of Namjoon’s fingers trace low on your stomach. “What did you learn?”

“So much,” Namjoon noses at your cheek, pressing a kiss to your jaw. He says that every time. Namjoon dives deep into every topic he learns. You’ve come to notice that each stack of books in the room seems to have a theme. There’s never one book for one topic. Plus, he’s a quick learner. He already felt out the sensitive spots along your nape, how you want to be touched, what you need. “I was particularly interested in sensationalism.”

“Okay,” you say, spreading your legs. “Are you calling me sensational?”

“Hmm,” Namjoon hums against your skin, mouth wider, kisses wetter. “I’d say so. Your being in the world leaves a sensation behind. Any woman. A woman like you. Something defined by the appearance of something where things should be lacking. There’s so much not lacking within you.”

“Why’s that?” you gasp, Namjoon’s fingers dipping into your folds. You’re sensitive from all the activity and have no idea what he’s talking about. You love that you have no idea. Just his voice rambling over your blushing skin, fingers tempting your body to arch into him yet again.

“Well,” Namjoon nips at the skin of your neck. “if a sensation is how a body is in with a world, then something becomes sensational when contact becomes more intense**. _ ” _

At the end of his recitation, Namjoon dips his fingers in easily, curling hard. You moan, eyes rolling back.

“I don’t think,” you rasp, breath caught in your throat as he molds his palm to your clit, clamping down hard. “That a feminist would appreciate you rephrasing her words for the bedroom.”

“Maybe not,” Namjoon’sbody shrugs next to you, and you’re suddenly keenly aware of how he’s pressed up against you. “But you like it. The intensity of it. You are an intensity of your own, don’t you think? Something sensational.”

You want to quip, say something sassy, but he’s right. You’re at a loss for words as he pleasures your body already wrought with pleasure. He continues on, mumbling about being aroused by what you come up against as his hand rubs against you. It’s wrong, it’s an injustice to the work to lay it out in the bedroom like this. He starts to ramble about the restriction of the body as related to Foucault, and you’re gone at that point.

You never considered yourself turned on by someone’s intellect, but here, you can’t get enough of it. Namjoon could speak fucking French, and you’d be over the edge.

At some point, you can’t even hear him, it’s just brushes of lips and hot breath on your skin, your cries echoing in the space as he fits his palm to your clit and curls his fingers harder. You cum again, quick, but Namjoon’s not relenting.

“Wait, stop,” you gasp, even though your hips are still rolling into his hand. Your body seethes with electricity, but it doesn’t ebb.

“You want me to?” Namjoon asks, kissing and nosing at your jaw again. No, you definitely don’t, but there’s a strange pull in your abdomen, and you realize you really need to pee suddenly.

“Namjoon, wait, I,” you whine, grabbing fistfuls of pillow as he attaches those lush lips to one of your nipples.

“I found something online,” he murmurs into your skin. The vibration of his voice sends another volt of electricity through you. “Want to see you squirt.”

You blush, embarrassed by how your stomach flipped. God, he keeps pulling everything out of you. Makes you so content to lay on your back and let him work you over.

“Shit,” you whine, the feeling building.

“Yeah?” Namjoon asks, fingers practically vibrating from where they push up within your walls. You squirm, decency having you pull away but need having you pushing back against him.

“Fuck, you look amazing like this,” Namjoon kisses back up your chest, sinking his teeth into your lip. “Writhing on the bed for me.”

“Fuck,” you breathe, not wanting him to remind you. But at the same time, fuck yes. Yes, you want him to keep going. See how far he can push you to be begging to have him take control.

You feel the urge before the edge of your orgasm. You grip at Namjoon’s neck, trying to hold on, squeezing your eyes shut as the sensation of release comes in more way than one, your entire body shaking and feeling the wet pulse of your orgasm squirting between Namjoon’s tight grip on your core. Your jaw locks as you moan, rocking into his fist, too busy chasing your high to care about soaking his sheets. You throw your head back, crying out as you’re immediately too sensitive.

“Shit, stop, stop,” you breathe, grabbing at your own hair, fumbling to grab onto Namjoon somehow. You immediately glance down, embarrassment rushing over you, but he’d failed.

“Awh,” Namjoon sighs, staring down your body. If you weren’t so dizzy, you’d flick the comical little stitch between his eyebrows. “Come on!”

“Better luck next time,” you say, smiling smugly in your post-orgasm high. “Think it’s my turn to test you.”

It slips out, something you’ve danced around since Namjoon seemed uncomfortable bringing up your second encounter. How small he’d been. But this time, when you check in, he’s staring down at you, eyes blown, lips parted and wet.

“I’d love to see the power of women,” he says, bringing his fingers to his mouth, smearing your cum across his kiss bitten lips. You love it, despite the corny reference to his earlier feminist discussions. Immediately, your neediness changes into something else now that your high is gone.

You roll over, Namjoon easily rolling belly-up. But that smirk on his face isn’t the kind of expression you’re looking for. Your hand traces up his decorated ribs, heading for his throat.

Whining comes at the door, followed by gentle scratching.

“Uh oh,” you say, imagining poor Monie begging to come in. “He wants to hang.”

“Ugh,” Namjoon deflates beneath you, closing his eyes. “Why did you two have to make up?”

You jump off the bed, eager to see your favorite snowball. “No one can resist me.”

“I’ll say,” Namjoon sighs. You glance over your shoulder as you open the door to see Namjoon’s eyes glued to your ass. You shake it a few times before letting Monie in.

The dog cheerily trots over to the bed, hopping up into Namjoon’s arms. The distaste on Namjoon’s face immediately disappears when Monie settles in next to him for tummy scratches. You follow suit, crouching before the bed to scratch at the pup’s ears. 

“Such a pretty boy,” you coo. “Just some peanut butter and some scratches and we’re thick as thieves.”

Monie licks his nose at the mention of peanut butter, leaning into your skilled fingers. Namjoon scoffs then drops back onto the bed while you continue to lather the dog with affection that was deemed for him only moments earlier. You ruffle Monie’s fur, appreciative that the dog didn’t actually hate you after fucking his dad in front of him. With a kiss to his little wet nose, you search for your clothes. You really have to pee now.

“Next Saturday?” You ask.

“Ah,” the tone of Namjoon’s voice is regretful. You turn as you pull your shirt over your head. “Maybe, maybe not. I might need to go out of town to meet with an artist.”

“Oh,” you muse, faux-amazement laced in your voice. “Big shot now, aren’t you?”

Namjoon reaches over to smack your ass as you search for your panties. “I was always a big shot, thank you very much.”

You giggle, leaning over to give him a quick kiss. “How bout you show me that big shot on my face next time?”

Namjoon covers Monie’s perky ears, giving you a disapproving look. “Not in front of the kid!”

You gasp, giving Monie a kiss on the head. “Sorry.”

* * *

Good thing Namjoon had as many jobs as you, or you’d be hitting up his phone every day.

Okay, maybe you are hitting up his phone every day. Because since the last fuck, it’s been over three weeks since you had a time that matched up. Which is torture. Work has sucked. Dog walks are down. You desperately need a good fuck. You and Namjoon text more, flirting, teasing, tempting, with no endgame yet. And the longer sex is withheld, the wilder your imagination is getting. Namjoon’s been in charge, and you’re aching to have him under your grasp. You’d texted and talked over the phone a bit about what he’d be comfortable with, and now you are eager to put it to action. To see him writhe the way you do for him. To play with him.

“How’s it going with the Dick?” Jimin asks, sitting in the empty chair next to your desk.

You turn your phone over, glaring at him. “Great. We’re keeping it casual. I’m doing fine.”

Jimin folds his lips in, trying not to laugh as he raises his eyebrows. “I was talking about your boss.”

Your cheeks burn. Not that you should be embarrassed, but you don’t want to give away to Jimin that maybe you were thinking about Namjoon. Not that it’s a bad thing. Work made you think about sex a lot. Sex had been your go-to stress reliever.

Namjoon is a  _ great  _ stress reliever.

“Oh~,” Jimin sings, leaning in close to get a good look at your face. “Looks like you are doing really fine.”

“Don’t you have work to do?” You ask, rolling him out of your cubicle space.

“In fact,” Jimin grabs onto the counter and rolls back. “I do. I’m here to investigate since you’ve been sparing Kookie and hiding out at Hoseok’s.”

“Well, you’ll have to work harder,” you say, tucking your phone under you just in case.

“Is that a challenge?” Jimin asks.

“Don’t you have your own life to worry about? Jungkook told me about, what’s her name, Lucy?” You ask. Jungkook groaned about all the sex talk he was getting from all sides yesterday. Apparently, Jimin’s little flame has turned into a bonfire. A very flexible bonfire, Jungkook recounted with disdain.

Jimin straightens at that, the smile wiping from his face. He agrees to the cease-fire and says, “So, your boss?”

“That dick is fucking me raw and hard,” you sigh, glaring at the shut door of your lawyer’s office. “I’m not even joking anymore; he wants to fire me.”

“I think the issue is that he _can’t_ fuck you raw and hard,” Jimin teases, and you smack him with a stack of exhibits. “You’re the hottest thing on this side of the office, and you don’t do much but tease him with a ‘yes sir no sir’.”

“Wow, are you complaining that I’m not letting my boss rail me right now?” You scoff. 

Jimin stands, adjusting his slacks. He winks and heads back down to his side of the hall. “Just saying, doll.”

You stick your tongue out at him, turning around to see Patty. She’s loudly shuffling papers, her small eyes squinted in warning behind her large readers. You wave it off apologetically, getting back to work. You needed to find a new job soon. Or go back to school. Why couldn’t you land a stellar job or actually know what you wanted to do with yourself? Joon knew, Hoseok knew, Jungkook knew…

You shake your head. You’re taking time off for a reason. It’ll work itself out. You’ve already managed to solve your greatest problem of picking the wrong people to fuck. It’s been two months and things are going great. If you aren’t fucking up fucking, there’s still hope.

The man himself lights up on your phone, unusual for three in the afternoon. You take a second glance at Patty, who gives you a nod at the sound of your phone.

“Hey?” You ask, not sure why he’s calling.

“Hey, sorry to call, I’m in between things and can’t text,” he says. His voice sounds tired. You pout, even though he can’t see. “I’m leaving a meeting and really need a good fuck.”

“Agreed,” you drawl, spinning in your chair. Namjoon gives a short laugh, but even that sounds stressed. “Everything okay?”

You immediately shut your mouth. Of course, it’s not, and of course, it doesn’t matter. Sex is sex. You’re getting sex, that’s what you should focus on.

“Work just sucks. Everything is kind of out of control right now. Things are tight here and I’ve got some deadlines coming up. Gotta get rid of some tension,” Namjoon rambles. Doors open and close as he speaks, and you can tell he’s just letting his thoughts flow again.

Regardless, you already feel the energy thrumming in your veins. Sex, and sex soon.

“I get off at four,” you offer.

“Thank fuck,” Namjoon sighs. “Meet me at my job?”

“Why?” you ask. At his job? Not his house? Why? Is he planning on...a date? His day has been rough, he isn’t just looking to talk, right? That’s not what y’all do. Maybe it’s happening. You hadn’t seen the signs, but maybe you’d gotten too comfortable. He started to misinterpret things.

“Uh, because it’s on the way to my house? You’re at the office, right?” Namjoon questions.

You sigh in relief. Of course, duh. “Definitely, be there by 4:15.”

“Thanks,” Namjoon says.

“No problem,” you respond before ending the call. That’s a relief.  _ Thanks. _ Like it’s a favor. Because that’s what it is, technically. Helping each other meet a need.

“Looking a little giddy there, Ms. Raw and Hard,” Jimin quips, back around the corner with his jacket on.

“Shut up,” you snap, turning back to your computer and typing away absently. If you wanted to see Namjoon, you couldn’t take a break with Jimin and Taehyung. “Off to snack with your boyfriend?”

Jimin rolls his eyes, running a hand through his hair. It falls back in place perfectly and you have half an urge to trip him. “I’m meeting a friend. Tae’s busy crying at your place.”

Your fingers stop on the keyboard. You were ready to remark on Jimin’s  _ friend _ but the comment about Taehyung catches you off guard. “He what? He’s doing what?”

Jimin purses his lips, watching you carefully. “You don’t know?”

“Don’t know what, Jimin?” You face him, beckoning him back into his seat, but Jimin stays standing. “Jimin.”

He looks at the door, then back at you. “You’ve been at Hoseok’s a lot, right?”

You nod. “Well, not recently.”

Jimin’s brow furrows. “Oh.”

“Just spit it out,” you rasp quietly.

“Hoseok hasn’t been home much the last few weeks,” Jimin says, “and Taehyung hasn’t been asking to hang out all that frequently.”

Fuck. You throw your head back and take a deep breath. “Are you saying they-”

“No,” Jimin cuts off. “No, no, they aren’t. But they… I don’t know. They danced around it again or something. Taehyung refused to talk about it in case he “jinxed” it. I thought maybe Hoseok was talking to you about it. But… Taehyung’s been crying for, like, the last three days.”

Jimin sighs, and so do you. “Hoseok hasn’t said anything.”

He hasn’t. He’s asked about Namjoon. He’s chatted with customers and texted you about not organizing the shoes right. You hadn’t noticed he wasn’t telling you about his own adventures. Which means he probably wasn’t fucking anyone because apparently he’s been… preoccupied. Again.

“Can you talk to him?” Jimin asks softly.

“I really don’t think we should get involved,” you say. You know for a fact that more people involved only makes things worse.

Jimin chews on his lip, but then he nods. His countenance completely changes as he beams and says, “Have a fun fuck!”

You try to actually trip him, sending a distraught Patty an apologetic shake of the head before getting back to work.

Four o’clock gets here quickly, and you get to Namjoon’s office faster.

“Oh wow,” you stare at Namjoon. He comes out of the building in a style you’ve never seen. Since the night at the club, you haven’t seen him in anything too form-fitting. He’s usually in oversized clothes, earth tones, sometimes nothing if Hoseok is already gone.

This is different. He’s got on slacks that show off those long legs and a button-up with crisp white, sleeves rolled up, and the last thing that really blows your mind is the glasses.

Not that you are into the nerdy type, but with his hair swept back and the wire-rimmed glasses, something about it looks so powerful, but also… soft. Your stomach warms before you’re even at his side, imagining what that little face he makes when he’s confused would look like in those glasses. Or, like when he was begging you to let him cum, those pleading eyes behind fogged frames.

“You good?” Namjoon asks, tucking his hands in his pockets as you stare shamelessly.

You take a step forward, unable to withhold the urge to at least trace his biceps through the white shirt. “Mhm, bout to be.”

Namjoon closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath and opening his eyes as he lets it out. He nods in the direction of his house and you both start walking. “Fuck, it’s nice to turn off.”

Your ears perk at that. You eye him, the stress in his shoulder, the click in his jaw. “Need to just sit back and relax?”

“God, yeah,” Namjoon sighs. You hum, interested in how relaxed he already sounds at the offer. It’s also a nice day, and Namjoon seems to be a big fan of being outside, too. You watch the trees sway in the wind. You’ve never met someone who looks up so much. You’ve started looking up more, too.

“You know,” you say, “There’s a lot more nature in this city when you look up. It doesn’t stand out at eye level.”

Namjoon hums. “You watching me?”

You twist your face at him, so he puts his hands up and laughs. “I’m just saying. You’re always looking up, so I tried to figure out what the big deal is.”

“And?” Namjoon asks.

“And what?”

“And, what’s the big deal?”

“Well,” you glance up again. “It’s nice to see green.”

“So I guess you understand all the plants in my room now?” Namjoon teases, still never dropping your terrarium comment.

“Okay, it is still excessive to have a plant on  _ every _ fucking surface. It feels like we’re fucking in a--  _ oh shit!” _ You dodge behind Namjoon.

Across the street, broad shoulders caught your attention. You crane your neck around Namjoon, taking the chance to grip his strong arm, and double-check. It’s the ready-set-go guy from the club. The alcohol pun Jin guy.

“Oh shit, walk faster!” You tug Namjoon along, checking over your shoulder. He follows your gaze, then slows a bit.

“Who’s that?”

“Remember when Hoseok asked who was the big dick and who was the good fuck?” you hiss, trying to tug Namjoon along.

“Oh, yes, when you said I was a great fuck,” Namjoon remarks, still watching the guy. Damn, is he trying to draw his attention rubbernecking? “You’re telling me a man like that has a big dick but he wasn’t a good fuck?”

“Well, he wasn’t exactly what I was looking for at the moment,” you clarify, not wanting to get into how you really should have tied the guy to the bed and had your way with him.

“He’s kind of what I would want any moment,” Namjoon muses, finally getting tugged along. 

“What?” Now, you’re stopping, looking back at Jin then at Namjoon. “You do?”

Namjoon glances over his shoulder with a smug grin. “You jealous?”

No, that’s the farthest thing from your mind. Sure, Jin was awkward, but Jin _and_ Namjoon? Together? With you?

“Far from it,” is all you say, picking up the pace to Namjoon’s place. “You know, he was pretty easy.”

“Easy on the eyes,” Namjoon adds.

“I mean, he was willing to do anything I wanted,” you muse, watching Namjoon as you add. “He was a good boy.”

Namjoon’s feet stutter, tripping in his nice dress shoes.

You hold back your giggle, looking up at the trees again. “He wanted to do anything I asked, and he always listened.”

Namjoon puts his hands back in his pockets, back straighter. “You think he looked good, you should have seen him in my bed. Those shoulders.”

Namjoon nods, rounding the corner to his house.

“He waited for my instructions,” you say, walking up the sidewalk. “Wasn’t quite what I was looking for at the moment, though.”

“Oh?” Namjoon acknowledges, getting his keys out.

“Mhm, not like that time in your kitchen,” you say. Namjoon nods again, opening the door.

“Monie!” You greet, opening your dogs for the dog to pad right up to you first.

He gives you a sniff and a couple of kisses on the cheek while he debates between jumping you and getting on the floor for pets. “Hey, good boy!”

Namjoon closes the door. 

“Who’s a good boy?” you coo, using your dog voice. Monie pants in your face, little feet dancing in the excitement of the pet name. “Yes, my sweet good boy. I missed you, baby boy. Mhm.”

You continue to praise the dog, realizing Namjoon isn’t bending down to greet him. You take your shoes off, then stand to face Namjoon.

Namjoon is already looking at you. His eyes are tired and soft. There’s a flicker of that pleading look, but he turns away like he isn’t sure. You slide your hands up his arms and over his shoulders.

“You’re a good boy, too,” you try, test the waters. You pout. “Worked so hard, did a good job. How about you not work so hard today. Be a good boy and let me treat you right.”

Namjoon’s eyebrow twitches. Something turns in his expression like he’s unsure. That’s okay. You’ll back down. He holds your waist, but he doesn’t make a move. He doesn’t pull you in or push you away. So you do. You lean in and kiss him. He melts. There’s no aggression, no pull or tug or need, just relief. You yourself find it hard to pull away after weeks of nothing.

“Want to be my good boy?” you ask against this lips.

“Um,” Namjoon says, kissing you back to save time.

You start stepping back, guiding him into the living room. Monie seems to get the picture, heading back to Namjoon’s room. You give him a wink, then turn your attention back to Namjoon, untucking his shirt for him as his mouth continues to follow your lead.

“Can you trust me, baby?” you ask, stopping in front of the love seat. “I won’t run. We’ll cuddle after.”

“Okay,” Namjoon says. His voice is so small. Even as he stands taller than you without your heels, he looks small. Like he needs to be small.

“Sit,” you command.

Namjoon stays standing, hands still on your hips, debating if he’s going to play hard or not.

“No?” You question, stepping so close he has to step back. But there’s another question. Namjoon knows you’re trying to take the reigns. You’re letting him say no. He can tell you he’s not ready yet.

He fumbles, then plops back on the loveseat.

You can’t help the wicked smile that curls on your face as Namjoon shuffles a bit before eyeing you cautiously. You walk the rest of the way, bending forward to run your hands down his tense shoulders. “So tense.”

“Work sucked,” Namjoon sighs.

“Don’t talk about work,” you quip, also not wanting to be reminded.

“Definitely,” Namjoon breathes as you lower into his lap. Your skirt hikes up as you straddle his thick thighs.

“You do look great in these clothes, though,” you comment as you unbutton some of his collar. “You slip your hands underneath to knead at his pecs, releasing tension.

“You look great in everything,” Namjoon answers. He’s focused on the unbuttoned line of your work shirt.

“I know.”

Namjoon ticks an eyebrow like he doesn’t appreciate your response.

“Jin also looked good in his work clothes, didn’t he?” You remark, trying to sound nonchalant.

Namjoon pauses, eyes catching yours before he’s leaning back again. “He did.”

“Yeah?”

You grind a bit, finding Namjoon's cock well-positioned in his slacks. "He was a good fuck."

"I thought I was the good fuck," he teases, eyes closed and head propped against the pillows.

“You were,” you lean in close, “but I bet we’d be a good fuck for you, together."

Namjoon's breath hitches. “Keep your eyes closed.”

You lean back, running your hands over his chest as you take off his dress shirt. ‘Imagine it. I’m in your lap, and he’s right beside you, loosening you up while I fuck you.”

“Mhm,” Namjoon grunts.

“You like that? Like just sitting here while I get off and he watches?”

“Yeah.” Namjoon’s large hands wrap around your exposed thighs.

“What if he didn’t only watch,” you place a soft kiss to his lips before sliding your fingers over them. “What if he joined in? Slid his cock right down your throat.”

Namjoon groans as you slide two fingers in, pressing down on his tongue. Hot and wet, you can’t help but pick up the roll of your hips. “Fuck, his dick was massive. These pretty lips would be pulling at the edges.”

Namjoon’s fingers dig into your sides, begging for your hips to roll faster as he slurps for air around your fingers. “He was such a good boy, and he was so eager for every suggestion,” you continue, slipping your fingers deeper as you lick up Namjoon’s throat. 

“Bet he’d fuck your mouth exactly how I tell him to. He’d ram that cock right into the back of your throat if you begged for it, too.” You shove your fingers back. Namjoon chokes, but there was no sound, no fighting back, just a deep moan as his back arches off the couch. His tongue laps at your knuckles.

You shift in his lap, grabbing the back of the couch so most of you could grind down harder, faster, right over his cock press into his waistband. “God, you’d be a site. Slacks wet from me, mouth drooling from his cock. Bet he’d cum down your throat. Would that be enough to push you over? What if I reached into your dirty slacks and slid your cum into your mouth with his.” You’re panting into Namjoon’s ear, letting out soft little moans each time his cock brushed against your core. “It’d be dirty but I bet you’d like that.”

Namjoon jolts, body shuddering as his hips lift to yours. He groans around your fingers, holding your wrist when you pull back to check-in. You watch as his eyes roll back, chest rising before he lets out an uneven sigh.

He leans his head back up, blown eyes locked on yours as he wraps those fat lips around your fingers and sucks his spit off them.

“Fuck,” you gasp when he drags your fingers down his chin and to his belt.

“Why don’t you try it out?” His hoarse voice suggests.

Your eyes go wide, looking at his lap. You lift up, and sure enough, he came in his pants.

“Oh, fuck, babyboy,” you coo, quickly yanking his belt out and unbuttoning his slacks. With gentle fingers, you cup the mess between his thighs. Dragging them back out, you stretch your fingers to watch the cum spread between it like webbing. Namjoon watches, enraptured.

You bring your fingers to his already open mouth. 

When he looks so eager, so desperate for a taste, you can’t help but bring the mess to your own mouth, sucking the salty mixture off your fingers. Closing your eyes, you relish the taste.

When you open them, satisfied, Namjoon drags you into a kiss. His mouth is greedy and demanding to take what he asked for. You whine as he licks in, holding you close so you can’t escape, fingers still in your mouth as his tongue splits between them to greet your own. You rock against him again impossibly turned on at the way he licks his own cum out of your mouth.

“You’re nasty,” you giggle between gasps as he sucks on your bottom lip.

“I don’t hear you complaining,” Namjoon murmurs, a flash of teeth as he continues to kiss you.

You shake your head, whimpering as he gets his hands under your shirt to perk your nipples. “Not when you’re being such a good boy.”

Before you can respond, he’s gripping your waist, tossing you onto the couch, and ripping your skirt down. He doesn’t even bother taking your panties off, just yanks them aside to have his mouth on you as soon as possible, sucking hard until you come again and again.

* * *

At your door, you dutifully text Namjoon that you are home. He always asks before you leave to let him know. As soon as you walk in the door, Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Did you walk home that fucked out?”

You laugh, too high on finally having a good fuck after a few weeks to care.

“Wow, back to your old self,” Jungkook murmurs, downing the last of his beer. “Let’s hang out.”

You pause in the doorway. “Why?”

“What do you mean why? Can’t we hang out?” Jungkook grumbles with a blush on his cheeks. No, he’s not blushing. His cheeks and nose are splotchy red. 

“We can,” you double back. You aren’t sure what you just walked into. “But announcing it like that is weird. You want to talk about something?”

Jungkook chews on his lip, peeling at the label of his beer bottle. That’s a yes.

“Let me change and then I’ll get a beer,” you say, giving Jungkook a soft smile. He nods, still peeling the label.

You walk back to your room, wondering what he wants to say. You might get up and leave if he starts to talk about Namjoon. But he wouldn’t. Jungkook would straight up say he doesn’t want to talk if that was the case.

When you come back into the living room, Jungkook’s at the table. He has a beer open and ready for you. You take a seat, the chair sounding particularly loud like Jungkook’s thoughts are drowning out all other sounds in the small space.

“Okay, spit it out,” you say, trying to be casual as you sip your beer.

Jungkook glances up, thumbs flicking at the label on his fresh beer. “Why have you never tried to fuck me?”

Your beer spills on the table as it spurts through your nose. Jungkook reaches for the napkins.

“No, nope,” you shake your head rapidly as you cough and wipe the table. “No way, Jungkook.”

“I don’t want to,” Jungkook grumbles.

“Could you start with that?” You gasp for air.

“Start with ‘don’t fuck me’ instead?” Jungkook furrows his brow. Fair point, there’s no good way to start… whatever this topic is.

“Jungkook, there are, um, no offense, many reasons I will not fuck you,” you try to say gently. 

“Yeah, I know,” Jungkook says. You aren’t quite sure if he does. Especially when he asks, “Do you think I could make you want to fuck me?”

You scoot your chair back. “Okay, nope. Still fucking weird.”

Jungkook’s eyes start to well. Dammit. You can’t decide if you should walk farther away or hug him. But he drops his head, rustling his hair before he looks at the ceiling and sighs. “Everyone is so complicated.”

“That’s true.”

“Why, why can’t we just like or not like people?” Jungkook’s voice sounds wet, and you can see his eyes blinking quickly. “Why can’t you just… love someone?”

Your cheeks darken not with embarrassment but anger. You know Jungkook doesn’t approve of your lifestyle choices. He didn’t understand why you couldn’t just date the people you fucked, how love had never been in your equations. But to start crying over it? “Jungkook, that’s not your-”

“Why do Tae and Hobi have to hurt so bad?”

You pause. Your conversation with Jimin earlier rings in your mind. And Taehyung was over here. Jungkook’s quiet, but he’s always busy in his head. You don’t know what kind of conclusion he’s come to while Taehyung was here. “Jungkook…”

“Why does-” he sniffs, glaring down at his beer bottle like it’s the culprit, “why can’t liking each other not be enough? They like each other so much. It’s so-so sad. What’s so g-great about sex? Why can’t-can’t love be enough?”

“Kook,” you whisper, reaching out to rub his arm. Suddenly, angry eyes are turned on you.

“Why are you and Hobi so hung up on sex? All it does is fuck shit up. We’re all” sniff “we’re all fucked up. You fuck and don’t love, Hobi can only love if he fucks, Taehyung can love but not fuck, I can’t, no one loves me, I mean-”

“Kook,” is all you can manage, your own voice cracking. That hurts. “Kook, we all love you. Be glad you don’t have some complicated romance in this incestuous friend group. And…” you swallow, ready for a conversation you’ve had many times with people storming out of your bedroom, “People can’t just change. Hoseok’s being smart. He’d hurt Tae. They’d hurt each other.”

“That’s bullshit! They’re already hurting!” Jungkook practically shouts, words gurgling with phlegm in his throat. He quiets himself, glancing over his shoulder like someone might hear. “They, they just, they just keep floating around each other. Why can’t they change for each other? Or why can’t they stop?”

“Don’t you think that’s fair?” You ask, speaking more for yourself as well now. “To ask either of them to sacrifice something that would make them unhappy? To control their emotions?”

“But love would be enough, wouldn’t it?” Jungkook whispers, voice ready to break if he speaks any louder.

“Kook, love isn’t always enough,” you say, rubbing his arm. “Sometimes it isn’t love, either. Sometimes, love doesn’t match up. And people have to deal with it. But this isn’t for you to deal with.”

Jungkook laughs. It’s a dark, choking sound. “It’s unavoidable. They are both my friends. Without Hobi, Tae fills his time with me and Jimin. And we watch and listen. It’s even worse together, and-”

“Okay, I think you need to take a deep breath, have another beer, and think about yourself,” you say, trying to soothe Kook’s now shaking shoulders. He shakes his head, squeezes his eyes, then nods. He takes a few deep breaths, punctuated by sniffles.

“Tae’s here,” Jungkook says. Your arms stop rubbing at his back. “He, he tried to, he tried to kiss Hobi.”

“Oh,” you say. You aren’t sure what else to say.

“Hobi… kissed him back,” Jungkook continues, quieter.

“Mhm,” you answer, scared for what’s next.

“And then, and then, they both, Tae says they both cried. And then they fought. And, and he won’t say more than that, but, but-”

You shush, Jungkook, encouraging him to take deep breaths. “Take it slow.”

Jungkook breathes deep then downs his beer again. His large, brown eyes are rimmed red. “He won’t stop being sad.”

“How long has it been?”

“A few days.”

“Well,” you say. “Heartache takes a while. He may cry some more. You can cry with him. But, you don’t have to solve this  _ for _ him, okay?”

Jungkook doesn’t nod. But he doesn’t argue, either. He just sniffs hard enough to cause his shoulders to rise. “Let it be, okay?”

Jungkook closes his eyes. You take a deep breath with him. You aren’t sure what to do. You stay with Jungkook until he calms down. Eventually, after painful small talk about video games you don’t understand, you both head back to your rooms.

“Tae’s there?” you ask with a nod to his bedroom door. Jungkook nods. “Just be there for him, okay?”

Jungkook nods, staring at the floor. Then, he startles you as he wraps you up in a really, really tight hug. He squeezes a bit too hard and takes a last deep breath. “Thanks.”

“I didn’t do much,” you whisper, rubbing his back.

“It’s enough,” Jungkook says.

When he pulls back, you tell him, “I want you to remember that. Being there is enough.”

He nods and gives one last sniff. “It’s really weird getting advice from you.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, I guess that means you’re fine now. Goodnight.”

Once in your room, you immediately dig your phone out of your clothes.

“Hello?” Hoseok asks, sounding drained. You check the screen, 1 am. He should be wide awake still.

“What happened?” You ask. Hoseok pauses a second too long. “Hoseok, what happened?”

There’s a deep sigh on the phone. “Jimin told you?”

“Yes, well, kind of,” you say. “I’m wondering why you didn’t tell me.”

“Look, I don’t need every person involved in my not-even-really-a-relationship,” Hoseok quips, then groans. “I mean, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Too bad,” you smart. You know if Hoseok really doesn’t want to, he’ll hang up.

“He,” Hoseok gives in immediately. You hear him rollover. “He tried to kiss me.”

You wait.

“He tried to kiss me for me,” Hoseok’s voice sounds wet. “And then, and then he said he’d take me any way he could. And I... it hurts, babe. It hurts to be loved this much. It’s cruel.”

You pout. You’d heard Jungkook cry for half an hour, but this hurts more. You don’t know what to do. Jungkook doesn’t know what to do. You feel the pull of why Jungkook wants to get involved. You want to help.

“I’ll ask Tae to switch shifts for Saturdays,” you say. 

Hoseok laughs. Even through the phone, you can tell it’s forced. “What about Joonie?”

“What do you mean?” You say, hand on your hip even though he can’t see. “Bros before hoes, right?”

Hoseok chuckles again, then groans. His deep sigh crackles through the phone. Finally, he says, “Yeah. Yeah, I just, I can’t be around him. He shouldn’t be around me.”

“Okay,” you say before Hoseok can change his mind. “See you Friday.”

“Mhm,” Hoseok says.

You pull out your phone, opening up the messages. Namjoon sent a smiley to your notice of arriving home.

_ You _

_ So, what other days are you free? _

_ Namjoon _

_ Idk _

_ Gotta check in with my bros before my hoes _

You groan. Fucking Hoseok, he was probably right next to Namjoon

_ You _

_ C’mon hoe, don’t give me that shit _

_ Namjoon _

_ ;) _

_ Ill let you know _

You sigh, tossing your phone and collapsing on your pillows. What a mess. But thankfully, not your mess. Namjoon is mess-free. You’re grateful that you and Namjoon could work something out so easily. Just fucks and some chitchat. Mess-free. You smile, remembering today. Namjoon groaning beneath you, the thought of Jin joining you.

And as you fall asleep, you remember how green the city looked today and how calm Namjoon’s voice was beside you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** This part is referencing the absolutely phenomenal work of Sarah Ahmed. I debate don putting it in here, but I couldn't pass up a chance to advertise her work. She is an amazing leader and writer!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have as much time or attention to write rn. I may come back to change the wordchoice or add some descriptive details later on. Sorry for any typos!

Friday’s shift is awkward. There have been many times you wished Hoseok would shut the fuck up. But now that he’s been almost mute for an hour, you wish he’d at least pick up a vibrator and bounce about imitating the buzzing for a customer. He’s opted for not talking about anything to avoid not talking about what happened with Taehyung.

It’s not like you are going to interrogate him. You just want to check-in. He knows that, too. Which means his silence is speaking volumes. Leave it to Hoseok to be fucking loud even when he’s quiet.

Luckily, there’s a mill of customers in and out of the store to keep you occupied. You’re glad to feel like you’re actually working and doing something well since your other job seems to be getting worse by the day. You enjoy the embarrassed and awed faces of the girls who come in, the awkward gratefulness of shy older men.

But not every customer can be great.

“This toy comes with a 3-year warranty, so don’t throw away the package,” Hoseok instructs, the smile not quite reaching his eyes.

“Cool, cool. But, Um,” the man leans over the counter, beckoning you and Hoseok in close. “If I come in here with another lady later, don’t say anything about me being here now.”

Hoseok gives the man two finger guns. “Oh yeah, boy, playa play!”

The man laughs nervously, looking relieved. “Yeah totally, you get me, man.”

You roll your eyes, jabbing at the cash register. Not the kind of attitude you want to deal with today.

“Of course I do,” Hoseok assures him with a flick of the wrist. “As long as being in the store is the secret and you’re practicing consent by letting all of your partners know and keeping no secrets.”

The man coughs, backing off the counter. You roll your lips, trying not to laugh as you hand the man his bag. Hoseok clicks his tongue with a shake of the head, his shaggy red hair brushing over his forehead.

“The nerve of some people,” he says, leaning back on the counter.

“You know,” you begin. Your conversation with your friends itches at the back of your mind. You need to bring this up. Mostly because you know Hoseok won't, and you know he may need to talk about it despite the “ignoring it” strategy he’s chosen. Just like he does with you, you carry on to see if he'll spit it out. “This is a bad transition, but, you mentioned being honest with your partners and-”

“You’re right!” Hoseok says, clapping his hands and walking out from behind the counter. “That was a bad transition, and now I won’t talk to you for comparing me to that asshat.”

“Hoseok,” you groan. “Look, I am obligated to bother you about this the way you bother me about Joon.”

“Uh-huh, and how is that going? Heard y’all got lunch the other day,” Hoseok says, rearranging the shoe display.

“Because I gave him a handjob under the table!” You exasperate.

“Mhm, yeah, okay, nice excuse,” Hoseok returns.

“What’s your excuse?” you retort, hands on hips. Hoseok turns, hands on his hips, too. “Don’t you dare say it’s none of my business because all we do is talk about our business.”

Hoseok stares on, eyes wide and mouth pressed thin. You don’t back down. So, after a few moments, Hoseok deflates, dropping the shoe couch. “I’m miserable.”

You walk over, sitting next to him cross-legged. “Why?”

Hoseok throws an arm over his face. “Because Taehyung.”

You don’t think you’ve ever heard Hoseok say Taehyung’s full name. It’s always pet-names and nicknames. The seriousness makes you a bit uncomfortable.

“Okay,” you say.

Hoseok throws the arm off his face, settling you with wild eyes. “Okay? OKAY? You are supposed to bug me! Ask me about it! Force me to divulge all of the feelings I keep bottle dup inside so I can figure this out!”

“Is that what you are doing each time you ask me ‘how are you and Joonie’?” you tease, shoving Hoseok.

“I guess!” Hoseok shouts then collapses back onto the couch.

“Well, how are you and Taehyung?” You ask.

“Terrible,” Hoseok says. You wait. He says nothing else.

“Hey,” you poke Hoseok’s ribs. “Hey, this is me bugging you. Why the fuck are Kook and Taehyung holed up at my place crying together?”

“Because I told Taehyung we shouldn’t see each other anymore,” Hoseok mumbles.

“You what?” You ask, surprised. “I thought you guys were the model image of making it work?”

“Yeah, just as much as you and Joonie,” Hoseok sighs. Before you can ask what the fuck that means, Hoseok sits up, hanging his head. “I love him, babe.”

“Okay…” you start. You’ve had this conversation before. He loves Taehyung, Taehyung loves him. Jungkook crying at the table the other night comes back to you, but Hoseok glares again and you quickly think of another question. “That’s bad?”

“We can’t... We won’t work,” Hoseok says. He stares at his hands. “And it’s too much. The more I love him, the more I _want_ him. God, why is he so beautiful. And the more he wants me, the more he bends himself. Like, he’s changing for me. And, babe, I don’t…” Hoseok brings his knees to his chest. “I don’t want to bend him so far he breaks. Or… Or I do something stupid and break his heart.”

“Hoseok,” you start but don’t know what else to say. You haven’t dealt with this. You can’t fathom what Taehyung feels. What it means to love without the urge to touch and please. Hell, you choose to touch rather than love. And you’re so lucky you found Namjoon who feels the same.

Not that he’s the only one. There are others out there. You’ve been in Hoseok’s shoes. Where love and lust don’t match up. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s okay, none of us do,” Hoseok says. “I didn’t want to do this. I had to choose breaking his heart now or breaking it later.”

“Hey,” you stop him with a hand on his shoulder. “You got hurt, too. You aren’t a bad guy. You guys are just trying to figure out what’s best.”

Hoseok stays quiet for a moment, looking at his hands again. He flexes them, flips them over. “I feel like a slut. I mean, aren’t I a slut? To say no over sex?”

“Well,” you take a deep breath. “I’m not the best person to talk to about that…” you also look at your hands, then place them over Hoseok’s. He smiles a little. “You aren’t a slut, or at least, not a slut in a bad way. No slut-shaming here. But you are thinking of real, practical reasons it won’t work. It’s not bad to want sex, just like it’s not bad for him to not want sex. That much I can say.”

Hoseok stays quiet, lacing your fingers together. He swings them back and forth, contemplating them as the answer might now be trapped between your palms. Then, he nods. His body rises beneath your hand with a deep breath, then he looks up, a dimpled smile of satisfaction beaming at you. It looks a bit more real.

“Thanks, babe,” he says. He stands and stretches. “I think a deep clean of the backroom is what we need.”

“We?” you groan. Hoseok grabs your arm and pulls your reluctant body from the couch. “This is what I get for being a good friend?”

“Shut up, I’ll buy more snacks for the back if we can actually find them.”

“Fine,” you groan again, but you can’t help but smile seeing your friend feeling just a bit better.

As you both pilfer through a stack of cardboard boxes, your phone goes off. You pull it out to be greeted with a picture of Monie. Well, mostly his nose and wide eyes sniffing at the screen.

_Namjoon_

_Monie misses you_

You giggle, dropping the boxes to answer.

_You_

_Well, he should tell his dad to stop being cheap_

_And pay for a walk_

_Namjoon_

_D:_

_Excuse you_

_I pay with my body!_

_You_

_Time is money baby_

_Namjoon_

_-_-_

Another image of Monie appears. And it’s unfair. Monie’s at the door, head resting on his cross-paused. He looks neglected and in need of a walk.

_Namjoon_

_Aren’t you working the dayshift?_

_Doggiewalk later?_

_Me included_

You roll your eyes. Ever since your walk home from work that day, you and Namjoon have been spending more time outside of the bedroom. It started with aphrodisiacs in the kitchen, and then the handjob under the table at the restaurant. You’re guessing he’s making up for the fact you’ll miss out tomorrow.

It’s been fun, and you are getting the feeling Namjoon might be an exhibitionist with the ways he manages to fuck around anywhere. You honestly are honestly surprised you haven’t fucked outside yet.

_You_

_That defeats the point_

_Namjoon_

_Pfft p_ _lease_

_That’s a yes_

_I’ll meet you after work_

_You_

_Don’t forget the dog_

_Namjoon_

_Woof ;)_

“Are you sexting on the clock?” Hoseok asks chin popping over your shoulder. You mute your screen, stuffing it back in your pocket. You smile, looking forward to the walk.

At the park, it’s easy to find Namjoon. Not only because he stands out taller than the crowd, but because of those ridiculous overalls he’s been wearing lately. The most ridiculous part is that somehow, he looks hot. Like a hot, nerdy farmer. A stupid hot nerdy farmer who is wearing something way too hot for today’s weather. 

As you draw closer, you can tell that he’s wearing an embarrassed smile with the way his eyebrows turn down while his lips turn up.

“Hey,” he says, walking over. You greet Monie first, the dog's large white paws landing on your work shirt but you could care less. Since it’s the park, Monie quickly reminds you both he’s supposed to be walking. You quirk an eyebrow at Namjoon, waiting.

“So, I fucked up. This is actually just a dog walk,” he says. You sigh dramatically as Monie pulls you both towards a tree that’s notorious for squirrels. “I forgot I have to meet up with some of my classmates for a group project. We managed to do it all without getting together, but now we need to finalize the presentation. But I’m okay. Lots going on, but I can handle it.”

You give another, heavy sigh. “How dare you put your education before my whims and desires.”

“I thought you’d say that,” Namjoon snorts. He leans in closer and dips his hand into your back pocket. You muffle a squeal as he squeezes hard. “So needy.”

“Wow,” you whine, “thanks for making it worse.”

Namjoon chuckles, pulling his hand from your pocket. Bummer. You thought he might ask for a quickie right here in the park. But Monie deserved his walk.

Namjoon is studious. He has no problem turning down everything else to study. That might also do with the way you noticed he hyper-focuses so much that he forgets to sleep. Which isn’t too bad, especially when he’s focusing between your legs…

You shake your head. You can’t get turned on if you are going to be blue balled by academia. Actually…

“So…” you start, mulling over something that’s been in the back of your mind for almost two years. “College. Is it, like, worth it?”

Namjoon laughs. When he realizes you are being serious, he rubs at his neck for a bit while he thinks. “It depends.”

You look over at him. No one’s ever actually said that. Usually, it’s a hard no or a hard yes.

“Namjoon starts to wave around with his free hand while MOnie pulls on the other. “It depends on what you wanna do, I mean. Not every field needs a specific degree or one at all. I do numbers. I needed a degree.”

“That’s just a capitalist society demanding certain measures to keep you progressing and the economy strong,” you sass.

Namjoon stares down at you, mouth open. “That… I’ve actually heard someone tell me something very similar. Who ironically _was_ in college. But he told me a reasoning that might work for you. Sometimes the best way to break the system is to be part of it.”

You laugh. Your brother has said something similar.

“But philosophy? That’s for me. So sometimes, you go just to learn,” Namjoon finishes. You walk in silence for a bit, watching other pairings go by and scolding Monie when he wants to chase after a pigeon. “Why? You thinking of going?”

You sigh for real this time. “I don’t know. At one point, I thought I needed to. Then that I don’t. But… I’m watching everyone around me figure out what they want. I still am not sure.”

“I don’t know what I want,” Namjoon responds quickly. He looks up like always. “But I know I need to know more. And I guess I know that I want to know myself, but I don’t know who that is. I don’t think it’s a bad thing to not know the self or your wants.”

“Okay,” you cut him off. He’s getting philosophical again. “But at least you have a plan for now. I want one of those. A job I like, to like myself.”

“You don’t like yourself?” Namjoon asks, coming to a halt. You don’t. You keep walking. Shit. Though off-handed, that was serious. That’s leading to a real conversation, which you already started. Once you pass Monie, busy sniffing a park bench, Namjoon catches up. “You don’t?”

“There’s a lot about me to not like,” you settle with, trying to sound final.

“I don’t think so,” Namjoon says, of course not letting it be final.

“There just is,” you say again, feeling your cheeks burn. Why did you ask him for advice? He’s just your fuck buddy. Who you aren’t even fucking. You are just sticking around for Monie, and this is on your way home.

“Okay, I’ll drop it,” Namjoon says. He puts his hand back in your pocket. You are about to swat him away when he leans in and whispers. “Send me something naughty while I’m plowing away at my presentation.”

* * *

Namjoon didn’t message often for a while after that. It’s not that you are concerned, you know he can handle it. And not that you miss him. You are just tired of checking your phone and are important and just want to see if he’s available anytime soon.

_You_

_Hows it going_

_Namjoon_

_Remember when i told u i could handle this?_

_Nah._

_Deadlines left and right_

_Fuckin sucks_

You tut your tongue as you spin the straw in your drink. As though the world knew, Namjoon had taken on a huge project with a production team recently. It was an amazing move for him, but they had a tight schedule. He’d finished one group project, but he had other final assignments approaching. Plus, it’s tax season, which apparently means crunch time for financial jobs.

He’s in a real crunch. And he’s been busy. More busy and less sex isn’t good for either of you.

_You_

_But do they suck as good as me?_

_Namjoon_

_-_-_

_I could do with one of those_

You perk up, eyeing the time on your phone-- 1:30 pm. A little over 2 hours till you get off and your asshole attorney can’t throw anymore work at you.

_You_

_Awe baby_

_Want me to make it better_

_Namjoon_

_Mhm_

You giggle. He didn’t brush off the baby at all anymore. You loved dropping it to see if he’d tune in. Not that you didn’t mind the days he’d text you to be undressed by the time he got to your door and would eat you out on the doorstep before your shoes were off.

That gives you an idea.

_You_

_Want to go shopping with me?_

_Namjoon_

_pass_

_You_

_Come on_

_Be my good boy_

_Carry my bags and tell me i look pretty_

_I’ll make it interesting ;)_

You can almost imagine Namjoon mulling it over, rubbing at his plush lips as he considers the offer. You start to sip down your drink faster, ready to get back to work and finish up for the day now.

_Namjoon_

_Sounds good_

_You_

_Good boy :)_

_We’ll have a fun evening_

_Namjoon_

_Okay_

“You texting that beau?” Jimin asks, taking his seat next to you with his own drink.

“Mhm,” you say, messaging Namjoon that you have to go.

“Looking mighty happy,” Jimin comments, tugging Taehyung in close as the boy takes a seat next to him. Taehyung smiles, wrapping his arm around his best friend and snuggling close. He looks fine, but the roots showing in his hair give away the hints of lacking self-care.

It’s been two weeks, and you haven’t asked Hoseok about it again. Jungkook hasn’t said anything, either.

“Look at her heart eyes,” Jimin says to Taehyung, pointing at you.

“You look cute like this,” Taehyung smiles, inhaling half his boba tea in one go. You realize how hollowed out his cheeks look as he chomps away.

“Like what?” You retort, hiding your phone in your bag.

“Wow,” Jimin muses, leaning into Taehyung’s ear but speaking at the same volume. “Look at the denial.”

“Excuse you,” you sass, flicking your straw at Jimin and his perfectly crisp work shirt. “Denial? How’s Lucy? What’s your lock screen again? Who is that?”

Jimin brows furrow, but then he sits up straighter. “I’ll have you know, we are not just hooking up anymore. I agreed to ‘talk’ about our… relationship. So you can’t use this against me when you try to make excuses about shopping with Namjoon.”

Your jaw drops. “What?”

“We were reading over your shoulder,” Taehyung clarifies, smiling mischievously. “You even used an emoji.”

“That!” You lower your voice as two teenage boys turn to stare at you at the table across the way. Your face burns. You huff before continuing, “I’ll have you know, that’s, like, a scene. He’s stressed and having him submit and follow my orders is a kind of stress relief. It builds its own kind of tension. It’s like foreplay.”

“Mhmm,” Jimin draws out, sipping his macchiato. Taehyung’s eyes are wide, nodding like he’s just learned something fascinating. “I see. How kind of you to go shopping with him for his benefit. Jungkook says sometimes he stays over. Is that also for his benefit? Does he need somewhere to sleep at night? Want to offer my place?”

“Okay, bye,” you say, your cheeks still burning. That was one time. Namjoon had started to go on and on about something he saw in another TEDTalk and you just thought it would be best if he stayed instead of sleepily wandering the streets. Not that you need to explain yourself. You finish your drink and for once are relieved to get back to work.

Not an hour later, you’re standing in the shopping district by Namjoon’s place. You made sure to text him the address and exactly where to meet you, giving him as little responsibility as possible. You shiver a bit as the breeze laps at your legs in the short skirt.

He comes walking up, deep in thought with his music in. You can see the tension knitted in his eyebrows like he’s upset with the buildings and displays that he passes on his way over. Damn, he looks fucking good in his work clothes as always. You can’t wait to see him follow you around like a puppy dressed like that.

You swing around as he approaches, wrapping your arms around his waist and patting his head.

“Hey, baby,” you coo. You can already see him melting a bit, no longer having to guide himself. Man, today must have been tough. You give him a gentle kiss, and he follows for one more when you pull back. “Ready to go shopping?”

He nods, a small smile playing at his lips. “You’re going to follow and help me with my bags, right?”

Namjoon nods again, lacing his fingers in yours. Secure, close. You smile, excited about today’s adventures. You skip down the way, pulling him into the first store. You walk down the aisles, him following close behind, that tension in his brow gone now that you’re in charge.

“Hmmmm,” you hum, knowing your voice draws his attention. “How about…” you bend over, picking up a pair of jeans, “these?”

You turn quickly to catch the face you’ve been waiting for. Namjoon’s jaw dropped, eyes wide, before his head’s snapping around to see who else is around. With the short skirt, bending so low, he saw your surprise: no underwear.

“You…” Namjoon whispers, stepping closer.

“Me?” You ask, putting the jeans in his hands which he quickly stretches out to hold. As you turn back, you hear Namjoon chuckle and smile yourself.

You continue throughout the day like that, stopping in a few more stores mainly to just work Namjoon up, turning here and there and reaching up to high shelves.

In the last shop, you grab a shirt that’s long-sleeved but cropped, knowing it’ll dance just over the hem of your skirt. “Hold on, sit right there,” you order, pushing Namjoon onto the chair with the tip of your finger. He holds the other bag close, nodding slowly. Too cute with that soft smile. You can’t help but tilt his chin up for a kiss before you dance back into the dressing room. But not before you see how his lips stay puckered for more, eyes still closed.

Int he dressing room, you smile to yourself. It’s nice to run around being a tease and also know it’s exactly what Namjoon needs. It’s a good exchange. You both get your playfulness out. And the real games haven’t even begun.

You step out, twirling in the new top. Namjoon’s eyes follow, tongue wetting his lips. “How do I look?”

Namjoon tilts his head, a little lost apparently. Oh. “Do I look pretty, baby?”

That clicks. Namjoon nods quickly, smile so wide his eyes disappear. “So pretty.”

“I’ll get this then for dinner tonight,” you say.

“Dinner?” Namjoon asks, standing when you take his hand.

“Mhm, I’m going to buy you a nice meal for doing so good today,” you hum handing the cashier your card.

“Really?” Namjoon breathes. You turn to him with a smile, patting his cheek. The elation in his wide eyes is quickly overtaken by the broadness of his smile. Still taller than you, he seems impossibly small and boyish beneath your palm.

You already know where you’re going. It’s a small cafe where you know the booths are sectioned off for some privacy. It’s what you’ll be needing. As you step inside, you lead Namjoon back to the table, telling him where to sit before taking a seat across from him. He stares through the table, seeming a bit disappointed. You’ve noticed Namjoon’s penchant for people watching. But you don’t want to be watched.

“Don’t like the view?” You ask, flipping open a menu. Namjoon shakes his head, reaching for the menu.

“No,” you say, taking it from him. “No decisions for baby boy. Just enjoy it.”

Namjoon hesitates. Something shakes in his gaze, but then he’s slouching back in the seat. You brush the side of your shoe along his leg under the table. Namjoon’s eyes snap to you, and you can see he’s suddenly appreciating the concealed space. “Good boy. Let’s see. I think you’d like a burger, right? Easy enough.”

Namjoon nods with another small smile. So few words today, so it must have been really tough. “Awh,” you lean across, running your fingers through his hair. His eyes fluttered close. “You worked so hard. I can’t wait to feed you a nice warm meal.”

“Feed me?” Namjoon asks, eyes still closed.

“Mhm,” you say. “I’m gonna pop each fry between those pretty lips.”

Namjoon swallows, eyes opening when you draw away to order. But as your waitress reads off the specials, you aren’t listening, you’re tracing your foot down the inside of Namjoon’s thigh. You see him start to straighten, gaze glossing over as you order for both of you, a smile tickling your lips.

You turn back to Namjoon, head in your hand as you watch the pleasure in his eyes. “Are you excited to eat, baby boy?”

Namjoon eyes dart down to what’s uncovered below the table. He nods. “Naughty, I’m talking about your food.”

“You’re the only food I want to eat,” Namjoon rasps out. You feel his hips shift against your foot resting in his lap.

You gasp, setting both your hands on the table. “Baby, that’s naughty,” but you balance it with a soft smile to keep Namjoon from worrying. “You’ve gotta eat some sustenance first. I know you probably didn’t eat all day.”

Namjoon leans forward on his palm, trying to shade his face as he grunts from your toes wiggling over his crotch. He pants while you scroll through your phone.

“Oh!” You say in warning, withdrawing your foot. “Food’s here!”

You pop the fries into his mouth, congratulating and cooing each time he takes a bite. You love how his chubby cheeks round out as he enjoys the praise, knowing he’s doing something right. As he finishes his meal, he leans back, sighing in relief while you try to finish up your meal.

“Can’t wait to get home and fuck you,” he murmurs to the ceiling.

Your fork pauses in your food. When you glance up, there are different eyes staring at you. Hungry eyes. The soft pout and gentle gaze are gone.

“Namjoonie,” you tease, testing the waters. Namjoon leans forward, challenging you. You guess he’s feeling better now, searching his gaze and he nods.

“Wait a little bit longer,” you say as an order. No need to play nice anymore.

“Why? We’re done.”

“Hm, you sound like a petulant child,” you muse, bringing the food to your mouth. You chew, watching the frustration grow on Namjoon’s face. “Let’s get dessert.”

“You’re dessert,” Namjoon quickly responds, hands bracing on the table.

You put your silverware down, taking a deep breath to keep from smiling and remain in character. “Excuse you, are you not listening to me?”

Namjoon chews his lip, then with an annoyed huff, falls back in his seat. You nod in approval, dabbing the napkin at your lips. Not that you need to, it just makes you feel more in control.

“Now be a good boy while I go to the bathroom,” you pat his cheek before you get up, watching his gaze on your legs when you adjust your skirt. He bites his lips, arms tensing.

You step down the side kitchen alley, heading to the bathroom. Pulling on the first door, you step in only to have someone else push you through and slam the door behind you.

“Namjoon!” You hiss as he follows right behind you into the small, single-occupancy bathroom.

“Mhm?” He responds, already crowding your space, breath hot on your neck as he inhales deep.

You shove him off playfully, honestly grateful he’s making his move now. You were going to go crazy having his lips graze your fingers all dinner. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I’m tired of watching your mouth stretch wide for each bite of food when I’ve got something much more satisfying to shove in there,” he suggests, fingers already hiking up the bottom of your skirt.

“We can’t! People are going to–” your cut off by his plush lips on yours, hands guiding your ass to rest against the sink. Holy shit, there are probably five thousand germs in here. But right now, Namjoon’s the nastiest.

His lips travel down your jaw and proceed to leave wet kisses along the column of your neck. “Okay,” he murmurs, teeth scraping against your neck. You can’t help but grab onto him as you shudder. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

You twist your mouth in frustration, his hands still hiking up your skirt to take two handfuls of your ass. He eyes you cautiously, but the devilish glint still sparkles in his half-set eyes. “Well?”

You smack his shoulder. “Don’t act all cocky about fucking me in the bathroom.”

“It’s not an act, babe,” Namjoon rolls his hips into yours. Shit, he’s so hard already. Fuck toying with him at the table. You’re hungry for something else now.

You take one glance at the locked bathroom door, then nod. “Quick.”

Namjoon chuckles then spins you around. You gasp as the cold sink presses into your thighs, a warm hand bending you closer to the mirror. Your cheeks are already dusted pink from the wine, and Namjoon’s lust-filled gaze locks with your own. “You have no idea how quickly I could come right now.”

“Yeah?” You inquire, pressing your ass back against him. You watch his eyes roll back in the reflection.

“God, you’re ass looked great in that skirt,” Namjoon says, and you can hear the sound of his belt buckle and zipper. “Looks better in no skirt.”

“I’ll remember for next time,” you quip, giggling when you’re rewarded with a swift smack to the ass. You bite back the squeal. “Hurry up.”

Namjoon sasses you back with a snarl. You give him an indignant glare through the glass in front of you, settling your hands on the side of the sink. His hand lands hard across your ass again and you try to muffle your moans.

“Uh uh,” Namjoon tuts. He leans over your body, cheek pressed to yours, watching you both in the mirror. From the mirror, you watch Namjoon stay focused on your ass as he tugs his wallet out of his back pocket and drops his pants. He takes out the condom and tosses the wallet into the sink before rolling it on. 

“That’s gonna get all dirty,” you comment, staring at the open wallet in the sink.

Namjoon leans in close, and you can feel his hard cock bumping against your core, already wet. He knew it, with the way he’d been looking at you and you’d been teasing him all night under the table, that you had to be excited. “Good, I like it dirty.”

You bite back a giggle that twists into a moan as he pushes just the tip in. Namjoon grips your jaw while his other hand encourages your legs farther apart. “Don’t hide those noises from me.”

“Don’t be ridicul- _ow_!” Namjoon shoves two fingers into your mouth, holding your tongue down and your jaw open. Your reflection shows how the surprise and the pressure morph your expression into something closer to desperation than an irritation. When the head of his cock presses in again, you try to keep from rolling your eyes in the back of your head, saliva flooding your open mouth.

“That’s it,” Namjoon sighs, pressing in. Your body welcomes him, leaning back into him to take him faster. “Let me hear how good it feels.”

As he presses deeper, you see your cheeks darken, your jaw slackens under his grip. You try to hold yourself up just to see his smile as he watches himself bury deep inside you. The drool drips down his fingers and you try to slurp it back up, but feel it run down your chin.

His dark eyes glance back up, leaning close again to kiss the crown of your head. “Ready?”

You try to nod, but his fingers keep you from moving. You have no choice but to try and mutter out a coherent statement.

“What?” Namjoon asks. The feigned confusion pisses you off. You take a deep breath and try to gather all your knowledge of speech while his cock nestles in your walls, but he beats you to it.

A moan rips from your throat as he pulls out and thrusts back in. The sink protests, creaking against the motion. Namjoon pulls back out, cock dragging against your walls, before he snaps back in, deep. You cry out, the sound gurgled by the spit building over Namjoon’s fingers still pressed against your tongue.

“Can’t quite catch that,” Namjoon says, a smile spreading across his face as he catches the annoyed furrow of your brow in the mirror. God, he looks amazing, dazzling teeth and fully dressed pumping in and out of you.

And you… you’re a wreck. Hair falling out of place, jaw aching with his fingers jostling as he adjusts to hold your hips down, outfit unraveling with each pump.

“Joon,” you try to whine, begging him to pick up the pace.

“Hello?”

You gasp, almost choking. Someone’s at the door. Panic crosses Namjoon’s face before he sets his jaw, thrusting fast, just how you like it.

“Come on, baby girl,” Namjoon grunts. You try to shake your head, the complaint in your throat coming out as another gargled noise. Too loud.

“Are you okay?” The voice calls. God, you probably sound ridiculous. Your face is burning, but you can’t close your eyes from the shame. Not when you see how much Namjoon is enjoying this staring you down, fingers rolling over your tongue the same way he’d rub your clit. Like a habit, like he can’t stop himself. He presses on your lower back, almost bending you in half, and his cock rails into the perfect spot. You collapse onto the sink, no longer able to hold yourself up.

Thankfully, Namjoon’s wrist gets crushed and he pulls back. You lick at the slobber draining out your lips, trying to muffle the gasps and whines as he plows into you.

“Do you need help?” The voice sounds frantic. And it makes you panic. You look over your shoulder at Namjoon, sweat growing on his brow as he bites his lip.

“Joon, come,” you hiss, but it comes out more like a stilted plea.

He looks over at you, eyes wide. “What did you say?”

“Come, dammit!” you groan, unable to handle the pleasure but knowing your release is too far off still. But Joon’s isn’t. At your command, his hips stutter, fingers digging into your hips, body curling on top of you. He grunts before gasping for air, forehead rolling between your shoulder blades.

“Holy shit,” he grunts to the pace of his slowing thrusts. But you don’t give him time. You straighten, fixing your skirt and top and not even dealing with your hair. Namjoon’s leaning against the sink, so you grab his pants, zipping them up and yanking the belt back into place. He groans, sensitive to your rough touches.

“I’m going to get–” you fling the door open as the poor, elderly man outside the door reaches to knock again. You focus on the painting above his head as you quickly apologize, dragging your bad boy out behind you.

You wrench his arm so he’s close to you, whispering in his ear, “You better keep fucking walking after I throw cash on our table.”

Namjoon glances over his shoulder as you haul him through the restaurant. “What? I don’t think he’ll tell anyone.”

You round the bust station and turn to face Namjoon. He almost plows right into you, pausing just in time to avoid tipping into a vat of tea. “Namjoon.”

Namjoon gulps, expression still blissed-out from his orgasm, but he still knows your tone. You straighten up and smile as a waitress passes by. You lean in close, lips ghosting over his cheek. “You are going to grab those bags, go home, and finish your dessert.”

Namjoon hums in agreement, hands reaching for your waist. But you take his wallet, turn, and march towards your booth. Tossing a guesstimate on the table, you head on out with Namjoon on your heels, ready to dig in.

“I thought you were paying!” He whines.

“That was when you were being a good boy,” You sass, marching down the sidewalk just to have him chase after you.

“Awh, come on,” he groans. “Can you take some of the bags?”

“Why?” You ask, not turning around or slowing down.

“I can’t touch you,” he grumbles behind you.

You whirl, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and ducking into a side alley down to a parking lot. You press him against the cold side of the building and he almost drops the bags. Almost. He holds on tighter when you glance at his limp arms disapprovingly. He drops his head to the brick, a smile stretching over his lips, thinking he’ll get what he wants. “You’ve touched me plenty and you’ll touch me plenty more when we get back.”

“Fuck,” Namjoon breathes, licking his lips just as you pull back. He groans low, then his face contorts into disgust, hips shuffling. “Oh god, I still have the condom on.”

* * *

Simply walking through the door of Namjoon’s place makes your eyes prick with tears. It smells like him and Hoseok. Clean yet homey. It both calms and excites you, which just adds to how overwhelmed you feel.

You lost the job. You knew it was coming as soon as you walked into work. Patty’s pensive stare was laced with concern, the purse of her lips a little more downturned than usual. Your boss had called you in, a wicked smile on his face as he delivered the news. They needed to make cuts. Of course, the assistants without any kind of certification are the first to go. But he didn’t have to take such pleasure in it. Sitting down and taking his time just to really drill it home.

As soon as you’d gotten off work, you called Namjoon. He could hear it in your voice when you asked to come over. You needed him right now.

“Woah,” Namjoon comments, seeing the defeated expression on your face. “One, you look really hot in work clothes. Two, go sit down and I’ll get the wine.”

You laugh weakly, dragging him in for a kiss before you go to flop down on the loveseat. He joins you shortly, carrying two generous pours.

“Oh, you angel,” you sing, taking a big swig. He quirks one eyebrow, clearly amused with the innocent name.

“Must have been a really rough day,” he says. You nod, taking sips, enjoying him in his lounge clothes sitting next to you.

Eventually, you calm your whirling thoughts with a sigh. You lean back on the seat arm propped up and head in your hand to look at Namjoon. He does the same, a small smile hidden by the palm of his hand.

“Today sucked,” you say. “Actually, everything sucks.”

“Are you saying you wanna suck me off?” Namjoon asks, then laughs when you roll your eyes.

“That’s my fucking joke,” you try to argue, but it’s weak.

He reaches out to rub over your thigh. Long, gentle fingers caressing your skin. “I’m listening.”

You feel like you might melt and take another sip of your wine. He always listens. Well, then he fixes, but it’s nice that he offers. It’s why you came here. So you tell him. You tell him about your shitty boss, how Jimin didn’t or moreover couldn’t take your side, how Jungkook’s being weird, how the weather is keeping your dog walks down. How you just feel stuck in this situation.

“... and here you are, with a real job, a side job, and getting a second degree. Everyone’s moving forward except me,” you groan, amazed that you’d already finished the hefty glass of wine. Namjoon had only sipped a bit, giving you his undivided attention. He ponders what you’ve said for a minute.

“If I remember correctly, you aren’t looking to move forward,” he says. You cock your head farther towards the couch, and he does the same. “One of the first times you came over, you mentioned how you were pausing, figuring out life.”

He’s right. Of course, he’s right. Dumb philosophy major.

“So maybe now, this is a sign that you want to move forward. If you are annoyed by it, maybe it’s the next step you need to take,” he says.

You frown. “Why can’t you just agree that things suck.”

He chuckles, eyes disappearing. “Aren’t I, in a way?”

You want to tell him his questions make him sound like a cocky idiot, but he’s right. Maybe you do want to move forward. You aren’t happy with things anymore. He can tell you’re mulling it over, so he adds. “What do you want?”

The question is quiet and hushed like he’s asking you to tell a secret. But you don’t know. It’s even a secret from you. You’re not sure, but you want something more. It’s not something you want to figure out with this much wine in your system. It’s not a decision you want to make with someone else. You should just focus on Namjoon. That’s why you came here. A distraction.

“Right now,” you say, setting your glass down, “I want you.”

Namjoon’s palm drops from his face, and the smile slips a bit. You sit a bit straighter, nudging closer, but he hesitates. His hand on your thigh no longer rubbing in encouragement. You lean in, and he asks, “How do you want me?”

A smile twitches on your lips. In this situation, you usually would want to take charge. To have a handle on something when you feel like you control nothing. But really, you want Namjoon to take over. You trust him. You know he can give you what you need. The words spill from your lips with the taste of wine: “Take care of me.”

And he does. His arm slips behind your waist, pulling you in, kissing you slow and soft. He lets it deepen naturally, so you’re consumed by the pleasure. The touches, the feeling of being wanted after a day of being rejected. His hands don’t test the waters, they just hold you close until you move into his lap.

He holds your waist, guiding you to stand. He places a quick kiss to your nose, and it’s so endearing, something stirs in your heart. Nervousness. So you fist your hands in his shirt, trying to spur things on to something faster, rougher, senseless.

Namjoon’s glances down when you roll your hips into his, now carrying yourself with much more purpose, no more soft kisses as you mouth at his neck. He groans, arching to give you space. “Let’s go.”

He takes you back to his bedroom, but when you try to pull him onto the bed with you, he stops you.

“Let me,” he says, fingers reaching to take your shirt off for you. It’s slow, his eyes glued to you the whole time. As he pulls it over your head, he leans in to kiss both your shoulders, your collarbones, the nape of your neck.

He kisses you as his fingers undo the clasp of your bra, warm palms smoothing it off your shoulders and down to the floor. He grips your waist, guiding you to the bed now. “Scoot back for me.”

You shuffle back on the bed and Namjoon follows, crawling in front of you. You reach for him, but he ducks down, kissing at your ribs, your stomach, hands kneading at your sides.

“Do you want me?” he asks, kneading at your thighs after he has you naked on the bed. You nod. You do want him. You want his touch on you, his gaze on you. To feel wanted, appreciated.

“You have me,” he kisses your stomach again, hands drifting to your inner thighs. “Right here, right now.”

It hurts.

Because that’s all you have. Right here and now. Just for now.

You gasp and blink back the sudden tears as Namjoon’s fingers dip between your folds. He hums, teeth teasing your skin. But he crawls back up and fumbles out of his bottoms as he does so. You barely register the tear of the condom and the pause in his movements as your chest tightens. You feel caged and trapped beyond the simple physical feeling of Namjoon around you.

He continues to mouth at your skin, touching, kneading, grabbing at what he can as he slides the head of his cock in. You grab onto his shoulders, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, heels digging into his ass to pull him closer.

“Joon,” you whisper. You sniff, unable to stop the tears as the frustration, fear, and pleasure consume you. It inflates your chest but suffocates the oxygen in your veins. “Fuck, Joon.”

“You feel so good,” Namjoon murmurs into your ear, thrusting slow. It’s just like you need it. You feel so wanted beneath him, so adored.

You’re crying.

You bury your face into Namjoon’s neck. He doesn’t comment on it. He just continues to compliment you, your being, your body, as he maintains a slow deep pace. It’s so much, it’s terrifying. It feels so close to something you don’t want. Like you are being offered something you must but cannot turn down. You cling closer as your heart tries to pull you back in. Eventually, he kisses at your cheeks, wiping away the tears with gentle lips. You hold him tighter, closer.

You aren’t sure why you are crying anymore, but you are starting to think it’s not about your job. You are gasping for breath, searching for Namjoon’s mouth, for something more to block out the nerves. Maybe it’s not the job, but it will be about something, anything other than the thoughts crawling in from the back of your skull, deep in your mind, wishes you blocked out.

Namjoon wraps an arm under your waist, pumping in faster, drinking in your moans as he picks up the pace. You cry out louder, hoping the lewd sounds of your actions can drown out the voices in your head. _This feels like something more. He wants something more. He is something more. More. More. Until there’s nothing. It all leads to nothing._

You gasp out, calling his name as he suddenly feels far away. Too far away. Your fingers dig into his sides. You don’t want him to go away. You want him to stay right here. You want him to keep sucking at your neck, fondling your breasts, deep inside you, as close as he can be.

You cum. The sensation rocks through you, hot and burning and terrifying as you choke on a sob. Namjoon groans, not lasting long after you, collapsing to the bed. He falls on top of you, groaning, arms resting on either side of you.

“Hey,” he says after a few seconds.

“Mhm,” you ask, trying to blink away the tears. Oh fuck, oh fuck you just cried while having sex. You wouldn’t let go of him. 

You shouldn’t even have anything to let go of. “Oh god, I’m sorry, that must have been awkward.”

“Not that,” Namjoon mumbles into your hair. “I can’t move.”

“Huh?” You realize you’re still clinging to him, legs locked tight, fingers digging into his back. You immediately release, dropping your limbs to the bed. No, no, no.

With a pleased grunt, Namjoon pulls out and rolls over onto the bed next to you. You roll your head over to look at him, willing the tears down with your panicked thoughts. It’s so familiar. Lying in his bed, side by side, getting ready to talk.

Familiar, expected.

Comfortable.

Those eyes, dangerous and searching, laced with something else this time.

No, no, you don’t want to see it. You don’t want to feel it.

You don’t want to reciprocate it.

You sit up. Something. Think of something quick. Your mind is clouded and torn between blocking things out and needing to move. “I think, I think I need to go blow my nose.”

Namjoon stays laying on the bed. “Okay.”

You take a deep breath, then get out of the bed. You want to leave. You need to get out of here. You don’t know what just happened. You don’t know what you were thinking.

“Are you going to leave?” Namjoon asks. You whip your head around. He lays in the bed with a stoic expression. His eyes are blank even though his cheeks are still flushed. Like he already knows the answer. Because he knows you now. He’s close to you.

“I-” you stop. You pick up your shirt because you can’t look at him. “I need to.”

“I understand,” Namjoon says. His voice sounds like he really does. “Take your time.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this is now 10 chapters instead of 8. Me adding more chapters the closer I get to the end? It's more likely than you think.

One week goes by. You’ve gone a week without texting. But… you realize that’s considered a while for the two of you. At some point, you started texting everyday. Scrolling through your messages, you aren’t even sure when the texts stopped being about sex. There’s so much more there. Sexting and teasing of course, but talking about work, life, dog pictures, support…

You lock your phone screen for the third time this dog walk. This is not what you should be thinking about. You are preoccupied. Preoccupied applying for every job in the area. You keep opening the local community college pages but don’t even know where to start. You don’t know what to do and it would  _ really _ help if you could just fuck the stress out.

_ I understand. Take your time. _

You groan, which startles the man passing you in the park. Fuck. You can’t shake that night. It’s like the vibes are still reaching out and clouding your thoughts whenever you open Namjoon’s contact.

It was weird. Intimate. Namjoon’s touches were so soft and his gaze under those hooded lids was so intense. The relief that flooded you before the panic. So far from what you were supposed to be.

But Namjoon promised to be honest. He would have said something if he was feeling something. Even that night, you were hurt because  _ he _ sounded like it was nothing.

Does that mean you want it to be something?

You jolt forward as the beagle on your leash reminds you that he is in fact there and in need of taking care of business.

“Why can’t my life be as easy as yours?” You sigh, walking off to a tree the beagle seems to think holds the enemy within its branches. Fuck, what if Namjoon was going to say something before you left? There was something realized at that moment. You should talk. Maybe you shouldn’t. Talking leads to… more talking. Especially with Namjoon.

The beagle sniffs the tree trunk, before squinting up at the branches. You bend down to ruffle his forehead and watch his floppy ears flip about. You look up, too. Nothing. Just like you, looking up and really wanting to see something, but you aren’t sure what. “I feel you, buddy.”

You guide him back to the path. That’s what you and Namjoon need. A nudge back to the path. The right path. The fucks only, no feelings path. That’s what you want, right?

That’s what it should be. That’s what it started with and you promised yourself it would work this time. It would start that way and end that way.

You stroll down the street with a job site pulled up. No filters on, just looking for anything. Nothing takes your attention more than seeing Namjoon but not knowing what to do when he’s in front of you.

You pocket your phone and turn your attention to the jostling back of the beagle. “Let’s go home, shall we?”

The beagle perks up, lanky legs trotting down towards home. He knows his way easily. You wonder if you’ll ever confidently trudge somewhere considered your own home.

When you close the door and drop your bag to the floor, Jungkook’s fluffy head pops over the back of the sofa. He has a white envelope in his hands. “We got our new invites.”

You deflate. Somehow, this is better news than what you were already thinking about. You take yours but realize Jungkook has one in his lap as well.

“Why did we get separate ones?” You ask, plopping down next to him. You eye his sweats then the clock. 4 pm and just getting up, the lucky bastard. You make no comment since he said he’d cover your rent if work didn’t come through in time. “It’s just an announcement about the date moving up.”

“Probably because we both got a clause,” Jungkook taps the back of his letter. “I can’t bring you.”

You sigh and pull out the contents. The thick cardstock has an intricate, silver design and perfected cursive typeset in the center which reads:

_ You are invited to the wedding of Min Yoongi and Park Soohyun.  _

_ We hope that despite the sudden change in circumstances, you can join us for our ceremony on xx xx, xxxx.  _

_ Please RSVP on our website, www.MyWedding.net/MinPark _

Your step-brother is finally getting married. Your step-brother and his fiance, ever the busy couple, had schedule conflicts that “required” them to adjust their wedding. It was supposed to be a few months off, but since Yoongi had a release coming up and Soohyun would be out of the country, they’d moved it to a few weeks from now. Lucky for them, no one else in their life seemed to be quite as busy. Hopefully, his marriage would be enough to satisfy your mother for a while. 

Maybe not. At the bottom, in your mother’s familiar cursive handwriting, you read  _ Bring a real date _ . Which also read without being written as  _ don’t fuck this up and keep yourself occupied. _

You snatch Jungkook’s invite from him. “She seriously wrote you can’t bring me?”

Jungkook shrugs as you read the back of the card. The same handwriting indeed states that she’d love to meet someone lovely. Your mom would never call you that. You throw your head back. “Fine, Hoseok owes me.”

“Um,” Jungkook fidgets a bit in his seat, playing with the strings on his sweats, “you shouldn’t take Hobi.”

“Why?” You retort. You flap about on the couch in frustration as Jungkook nervously scratches his cheek.

“I’m, um, I’m taking Taehyung,” Jungkook mumbles, tugging tighter at the strings of his sweats.

“You are doing what now,” you ask, dropping your invitation.

“Well, I thought it might be good for him to getaway. We’re going up early to hang out with some of my old friends.”

You debate reminding Jungkook about meddling or feeling responsible for your friends’ emotions, but you’re in no place to talk. Plus, it might be best to get the two as far apart as possible. Hoseok’s mood had brightened at work, but you still caught him slipping at points. Mindlessly tapping at the keyboard or idly standing by a rack of lingerie. Taehyung had stopped coming over so often, but he didn’t seem as chipper when you met him and Jimin for coffee.

“Fuck,” you close your eyes and take a deep breath. “Who am I supposed to take?”

“The fuckbuddy-dude,” Jungkook answers easily. Easily. Easy. That’s what Namjoon is. Was. You don’t know. Jungkook’s face shifts, eyes going a little wider than they usually are. “Uh-oh.”

“Yeah,” is all you say. Uh-oh. Some kind of uh-oh.

“What happened?” Jungkook asks.

You stand to finish putting your things away. Wouldn’t you like to know. The more it is pushed to the front of your mind, the more you think you do know. That something is building. A something you swore off. The reason you chose a stranger who doesn’t feel so strange anymore. “Things just got a little weird. I’m waiting for them to cool down.”

“You mean you are avoiding it,” Jungkook grumbles.

You sigh. Fuck this kid. He knows you too well. “First of all, I don’t have to talk to you about this. Second of all, I’m not avoiding it. I think we just need space.”

“Mhm, I bet,” Jungkook says as he stretches out on the couch with his phone.“Sounds like maybe you should talk about it.”

“You can be a real brat, you know that?”

“I do,” Jungkook shrugs. You glare at him even though he doesn’t look up from his phone before you stomp off back to your room. 

Space is good. Space keeps things easy. You’d just gotten too close. Namjoon said he understood when you left that night… but you aren’t sure what he understood. That you were having a tough time? That you realized how he felt? What did he feel?

You groan and collapse on your bed. Fuck, without noticing, you’d started to let it get too deep. That’s exactly how you ended up at his place crying instead of coming here bawling your eyes out while Jungkook and Taehyung would most likely frantically search job sites like they’d find you something new that night. You were there too much. You’d gotten close.

This wasn’t about being close. You didn’t want to be close. Proximity always ends in pain.

You wince, realizing you’re crumpling the wedding invitation in your hand. You bring it to your face, squinting at the pathetic, pretty piece of paper. Then you remember. You do have someone else you can ask.

It takes a bit, but he picks up on the third ring. You try to sound pleading as you say, “Jimin…”

“Uh oh,” Jimin snickers. “I know that tone.”

“How do you feel about weddings?”

“Oh, uh,” Jimin clears his throat. You hear a muffled voice on the other end and Jimin mumbling something back. “No, don’t-” his voice comes back to the phone, “Give me a sec.”

You frown at the phone. “Hello?”

There’s more rustling then Jimin’s voice. “Sorry, with Lucy. Being on a date and hearing another woman say ‘wedding’ was hard to recover from.”

“Oh really?” You tease. “Why? Are you already planning your own?”

“Aren’t we talking about  _ your  _ wedding?” Jimin counters.

You laugh. “You cannot keep running from explaining how you, Mr. Playboy, finally got snared by a woman.”

“Mhm, speak for yourself,” Jimin sasses.

You think to counter but pause. You and Jimin could go back and forth for the next half hour. “Okay, I need a date for Yoongi’s wedding.”

Jimin makes a noise of surprise. “That’s already happening?”

“Yep. The tour and stuff.”

“And you’re still invited?” Jimin asks.

“Yes,” you sigh. “I don’t think he wants me there, but my mom won’t stand for it. She’s all about putting on airs. Family events require the whole family. And apparently I need a date because she thinks I’ll fuck the entire wedding party.”

“Didn’t you already…” Jimin’s voice gets quieter, “fuck the whole wedding party?”

“You can’t swear in front of this girl?” You tease.

“No,” Jimin huffs. “It’s just that she’s been burned and, I don’t know, I don’t want her to get the wrong idea.”

You blink, pulling the phone from your face to check the ID. “Wow, you really like her.”

“Take Hoseok,” Jimin detours from the conversation again.

“Jungkook’s bringing Tae,” you say as explanation.

“Ooookay,” Jimin sighs. “Sorry, babe. I don’t think going as a wedding date will go well with Luce.”

“Can’t you just explain?”

“Nah, not with this one,’ Jimin says again. “She’s… I just don’t wanna fuck this one up, okay? It’s like… okay, fine. She’s the whole package. She’s  _ my _ whole package. And wouldn’t you be weirded out if your guy just went as a wedding date with someone you didn’t know?”

“We aren’t like that,” the words fall out of your mouth sounding a bit too defensive.

“Mhm, I was using  _ guy  _ as a hypothetical,” you can hear the devilish smile in Jimin’s voice, “but you may want to second-guess yourself since you had someone in mind. Better yet, ask him to be a date. I gotta go. Lucy cooked and it smells amazing.”

“Wow, domestic,” you sigh.

“Love you, too, bye,” and Jimin hangs up.

You gawk at the phone screen. As Jimin’s call ends and your recent call screen appears, you realize Namjoon’s not only at the top of your text messaging app but also your phone log. Maybe you should invite him.

But what kind of message does that send? Don’t talk after that weird night then ask him to come to a wedding? But you do kind of use each other. What’s the difference to use him as a date? If it’s clear that’s what you are doing?

You shake your head. You have more pressing things to worry about. Like the fact that now you have to return home sooner than you expected. You knew the new date already; Yoongi had announced it on his private Instagram. But now, it was real. You had to go back.

You roll over and grind your face into the pillow with another groan. When it rains, it pours. But you need a date for that wedding. Someone you can trust to not fuck things up more than you already have just by showing up.

You’re a different person now. Things were going well before when they were just about sex. You can fix this. Namjoon’s probably being all philosophical in his thoughts waiting for you to reach out. Okay, you’ve got the upper hand if you call first.

You go into the kitchen and pour a glass of wine before you take out your phone to call him.  _ Calling _ . Fuck, he’d somehow wiggled his way into all these phonecalls over texting. You curse yourself for already imagining what his voice will sound like when he picks up. You don’t want to hear it. The question or anxiety or nerves that might be in his voice.

With two sips and a deep breath, you hit the call button.

“Hey,” you say as soon as Namjoon picks up the phone. You can do this. Just casually start the conversation. No big deal.

“Hey, do you want to fuck?”

Well, you tried.

“Oooookay,” Namjoon sounds suspicious. There’s a long pause. You fiddle with the stem of your wine glass until he says. “Sure, why not.”

You open your mouth to follow up about the date, but you are a little surprised. That was pretty easy. You expected more pushback. Some kind of psycho-analysis. Instead, you ask, ““Is that it?”

“Is there more?” He asks back.

You immediately feel defensive and frown at the phone. There it is. This is the same game he played the first time you sat down together. Like he knows there is something more that you don’t want to say.

So you don’t. “No.”

“Mhm, okay. So, no reason you left my house the other week and then did not once contact me despite  _ my _ dire need for a fuck?” You can imagine Namjoon’s jaw ticking, the raise of his eyebrows knowing he’s caught you. What an idiot. You wipe a hand over your face like it might wipe the image from your mind.

“Your dire need?” You tease.

“Deflecting,” Namjoon says shortly. His one-word accusations are ruder over the phone than through text.

“Look, I was super upset. I needed to clear my head,” you sigh. Of whatever happened that night. You haven’t been able to grasp it. What exactly you felt. But you are starting to be concerned it is what you felt from someone else. From Namjoon. “Is there anything  _ you _ want to tell me?”

“Yeah, actually,” Namjoon says. “Monie needs a dog walker this week.”

Oh. “Why?”

“Hoseok just made an impromptu trip back home. I have work during the day. I thought… well, maybe you would want to do it,” Namjoon trails off awkwardly. Ah, because you don’t have a job.

“Thanks,” you grumble just as awkwardly. He’s always thinking of stuff like this. God, when did it get messy? When did you start getting hung up on these things?

You don’t. You don’t get hung up on these things. And maybe it’s Namjoon who is. He could be pulling you in with him.

“We’re doing good, right?” You ask, quietly.

“I’m doing good,” Namjoon says. You hear the rustling of the phone shifting ears. “Are you doing good?”

The question throws you even though you’d asked first. You are. You think you are. No wedding talk for now. “I want you to fuck me rough. Hard.”

You hear Jungkook slam his door closed at your wish. Oops.

“Is that your answer to doing good?”

“It is,” you reinforce, leaning forward on the kitchen counter. You want it to be your answer. “I’m in the kitchen thinking of you fucking me right now.”

There’s a pause. Then, you hear Namjoon’s breathy chuckle through the line. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you say. “Don’t think you’ve ever thrown me to the bed and railed me hard.”

“I haven’t,” Namjoon remarks.

“I want you to bend me over this counter and fuck me senseless,” you whine, dropping to the counter yourself. You do. The cold press of the counter stings a bit and you like it. He just needs to fuck your thoughts away. Get back to normal.

“I can do that,” Namjoon says. “That’s what we are, after all, fuck buddies.”

“Yeah,” you agree, nodding and ignoring the skip in your chest. Does he sound irritated? It makes you feel irritated. “So fuck me.”

“Come over, then.”

Namjoon answers the door with parted lips to speak, but you stop him with your own. You mold into him, hands in his hair and his instinctively on your waist and crawling under your shirt. It’s a feeling you want to lose as soon as you feel it.  _ Reunited. _ You sink your teeth into his lip and he grunts, fingers digging into your back tightly in warning. You want more.

“Missed you,” you moan into his mouth, tugging at the bottom of his shirt.

“I can tell,” Namjoon mutters, licking at his sore bottom lip. You don’t give him more time to speak. You grab at his jaw, eager to have him, just him, physically. But at the same time, you’re searching. For gentle touches, hesitations, something that is more than it should be. With another nip to his plump, bottom lip, Namjoon shoves you against the door as a way to close it. You roll into him, smiling at his hard cock.

“Uh,” Namjoon breathes, and you slip your hands into his back pockets, squeezing as he walks you both backward. He muffles a groan as you tug his hair and suck at the soft spot beneath his jaw. “Hoseok is home.”

“Guess we should close your door,” you murmur into his neck. Namjoon groans, but 

“Have it your way,” he chuckles. He bends his knees, scooping you up. Your legs hug his waist with a giddy sound laced with desire, connecting your mouths again. Sex. It’s what you want. Your tongue dips into the back of his throat. Namjoon fights back, licking behind your teeth, leaning against the wall at one point as you scratch at his scalp.

He drops you onto the bed and tries to straighten up, but you slip your fingers into his belt loops and grind your hips into his. You sansed the panties, desperate to get action as fast as possible, and the rough fabric of Namjoon’s jeans spurs you on. You whimper, rocking harder.

Namjoon drops to the bed with you. His arms flex in his tank, shoulders bunched up to his ears as he watches your lips purse from the perfect friction. “Good god.”

“Been a while,” you whine. You scratch your nails down his back and revel in the way irritation laces with arousal in his eyes. You reach for the button of his jeans. “Need you to fuck me hard with that fat cock.”

“Is that what you want?” Namjoon asks, nipping at your jaw. You tug his pants down, nodding quickly. It is. You just need this. Sex. Just this. “Maybe you-”

“Want it rough,” you finish before he can suggest anything else. Namjoon sucks hard on your neck and you grab at him, holding him there. “Fuck, yes.”

It gets heavy quickly, Namjoon clearly in as much need as you. His hips roll into yours, the outline of his rock hard cock against your sopping core. He growls as you scratch down his back again, shuffling back on the bed to have him join you. His kisses slow, sensual, smooth, and something stirs in your chest. You dig your fingers in harder, hearing Namjoon hiss at the pain.

He grabs your hands and pins them above your head to keep you from causing any more damage. With one hand, he unzips his jeans as you playfully fight against him.

“Choke me,” you whisper against his lips.

Namjoon pauses. You are still kissing when he pulls back, lips stagnant against your own. “That’s… something we should talk about first.”

All the fucking talking. You don’t want to talk or think.

You roll your eyes. “Fine, then…” You shove Namjoon. He looks perplexed, but you quickly shift onto your heels. Your skirt already rode up, so you shake your ass. “Fuck me, hard, now. Shove me into the bed and give it to me.”

Namoon’s large hands are on your ass. You push back into them, pleased with his touch but it just stays there, warm and kneading. You bury your face into the sheets. “Push me into the bed. Just fucking use me.”

Namjoon’s fingers lace through your hair before he presses your face into the mattress. You whine, even a giddy chuckle escaping from you as your stomach warms. “Fuck, yes.”

Namjoon’s hot body leans over yours, hips rocking into yours. Namjoon’s lips brush your ear as he growls, “Is this what you want?”

“Yes,” you whine, sheets rough on your cheek as you nod, desperate for the throbbing heat pressed against your ass to pound into you.

Namjoon yanks your hair and you cry out as it sears through your scalp and into your neck. It’s good, the pain. You want it. To hurt. To feel something other than all the emotions in your head.

Namjoon sighs, forehead resting between your shivering shoulder blades. “Want me to fuck you up?”

“Yes,” you sound even more desperate this time because you are. You just need him to fuck you. To be fucking. To make this about fucking. Namjoon grabs at your ass, kneading hard, and you sigh in relief. 

“Treat you like a fucking toy?” His voice husks in your ear. “Get my cock wet and just toss you aside?” He rocks forward and it bends you at an uneven angle.

You hiss against the pain in your spine but quickly follow with a moan. “Please.”

But then, he stops.

“Yellow,” Namjoon says softly.

“What?” you ask, trying to turn as Namjoon’s grip in your hair loosens. Your scalp tingles from his grip. “No, I’m fine.”

You feel cold as Namjoon leaves you. You roll onto your side, preparing to argue your case, when Namjoon says, “Yellow for me.”

You clamp your mouth shut. Oh no. No no no. It’s happening. It’s happening right now. He’s going to say he loves you and everything you have is going to fall apart and be awkward and you’ll have to leave and things will be weird with Hoseok. It’s over. Done. Gone too far.

“Hey,” Namjoon reaches forward and you flinch. You quickly wipe at the tears that spill out. “Hey, no, no. It’s not your fault.”

“What is it?” You ask. You brace yourself for the end. Your mind shifts from panic to thinking of how to let him down and get out of his bed. You sit up and are glad that you are still mostly clothed because this would be so much worse naked. “Just say it.”

Namjoon’s brow furrows, hand still extended towards you. It drops to where he rests on his thighs, erection still tented in his boxers as he settles on the bed to sit cross-legged. You just curl up a bit more facing him. “I don’t think it’s something  _ I _ need to say.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Namjoon sighs. He’s looking everywhere except you, which you’ve learned means he’s processing something, being careful. “You left here pretty upset last time. Now you’re here, wanting me to be rough, and I feel like… well, like maybe there’s something you are trying to ignore?”

You stare at him. Is he going to make you do the work? Prove that you noticed? “Are you trying to get me to tell you that you realized that you like me?”

He blinks, eyebrows scrunching deeper as he tries to comprehend the back and forth from your statement. “No, the opposite.”

“You hate me now?” you ask, voice squeaking. Dammit. You sound pathetic. Why would that matter?

“No, that you like me,” Namjoon says quietly and slowly. Like you may fling yourself from the bed at his words.

But you don’t, because that’s ridiculous. You don’t like Namjoon. That’s not who he is supposed to be. “I felt like I could feel you… catching feelings, for lack of a better word, last time.”

Namjoon licks his lips, taking in what you said. “Why is that?”

“Well, it was… last time was…” was tender, sensual, felt different, but you settle for, “soft.”

“It seemed like what you needed,” Namjoon answers like it’s obvious. Maybe it was. Maybe it was to him. Maybe you added more to it. “I asked what you needed and gave it to you.”

“It seemed like more than what I needed,” you answer, hugging your knees. You squeeze your eyes closed, remembering the gentle touches and words the last time you were in this bed. “It felt really intimate.”

“It kind of was,” he admits, rubbing at his neck. “You were really hurt. You started crying. I wasn’t sure how to console you.”

Ah, you wince. He has a point. You showed up at his place a mess. You confided in him like a friend before taking him to bed. If anything, you made it intimate. “That’s not your job to do. I just needed something physical and distracting.”

Namjoon watches you closely for a moment, then takes a deep breath. “You’re right. That’s what we agreed to. But… Look, we promised to be honest with each other, right?”

You nod.

“Well, I’ve been honest. I’ll keep being honest. That last time, I agree something felt different. Maybe it was the emotions, maybe it’s something else,” Namjoon leans in a bit. “I just want you to think, for a second, to just consider… maybe you like me.”

You snort involuntarily. Namjoon leans back, hands in his lap, defensive. You immediately bite your lips, realizing that definitely seemed brash.

“Oh, sorry,” you try to recover. “It’s just… that never even crossed my mind. I don’t think that’s it. I don’t… I don’t fall in love anymore. I don’t want to.”

“Really?” Namjoon seems legitimately surprised. “Why?”

The mere question sends your heart racing. “Can I call yellow on this conversation?”

“You can,” Namjoon says, “but I think it’s something you should talk to yourself about even if you won’t talk to me.” He holds up his hand before you can sass his philosophy bullshit. “I’m just saying. You’ve talked about needing to work stuff out. I think you need to think about why you assumed I liked you and why you  _ won’t _ fall in love with someone. Not just me.”

You take a minute to consider his words. He’s right. These are things, now, you need to start thinking about it. And maybe the amount of feelings overwhelming you last time is what made you panic. To feel with someone again scared you. You wouldn’t fail at your own rules for how this could work out for once. “God, here I am trying to help Hoseok and Taehyung and I’m a mess myself.”

Namjoon gives a sad laugh. “No one can help them. We can only really help ourselves.”

You nod. He’s right. You need to focus on helping yourself. Speaking of… “This is bad timing, but will you be my date to my brother’s wedding?”

“Can I what?” Namjoon asks, eyes wide and incredulously.

“Okay, yeah, I said bad timing,” you remind him.

“You have a brother?” Namjoon asks. “Hoseok’s never mentioned that.”

“He’s my step-brother, actually,” you clarify. Namjoon nods like it explains something. “Do not go Freud on me. Our parents remarried when we were in high school. We both approved.”

“First of all, Freud is more a psychology jab,” Namjoon corrects, lazing down onto the bed now. You relax a bit, feeling like the tension has moved on a bit. “Also, why? You don’t seem like a wedding person.”

You sigh. You aren’t. But… when you left town, you were a mess. You’d fucked up and you were not the person you are today. Clearly, you still have work to do, but you’re a better person, you like to think. And, you honestly miss Yoongi. And above all, “My mom is traditional. It’s my brother’s wedding, so the family should be there to save face. And she also probably wants me to have a date so I don’t… fuck anyone there. It’s just that I-”

Namjoon watches your brain short-circuit at the thought. Here you go again running your mouth and letting him in. “Just that you…?”

“I might have fucked most of the wedding party and pissed off my step-brother in the process and fucked things up so bad that it was better to move out of town than stay?” you rush out with a nervous laugh.

“Oh, wow,” Namjoon answers. And that’s it. He just stares patiently as you might elaborate. You don’t want to. He studies you for a moment, that worrying back in his frown. Then, he cautiously asks, “Okay, so why me? What about Jungkook? Or Hoseok?”

“My mother kind of specified that Jungkook and I couldn’t come together, and I can’t take Jimin because his new girlfriend is not cool with it,  _ and _ Hoseok is kind of… obvious,” you try to say tactfully.

“Obvious?” Namjoon asks, oblivious.

“My roommate is bringing Tae,” you explain. “It’s free food. Just come with me, be hot, and then you can go,” you ask, hands held together.

“Hmm…” Namjoon rolls onto his back, hands behind his head. “I’m pretty sure I’m hot and come with you all the time.”

You smack at his chest but let your hand linger. You realize and pull back. “Just give me a yes or no.”

“Okay,” Namjoon says, but something else is in his eyes as he looks at your withdrawn hand. Quizzical. “Sounds good. When is it?”

“In two weeks.”

Namjoon’s eyebrows lift with an amused frown. “A shot-gun wedding?”

“No, my brother and his fiance are both busy people. They moved the date up to fit their schedules.”

“Wow,” Namjoon muses. “Your family is full of romantics.”

You roll your eyes. But you’re glad. Things feel normal. Okay. Namjoon’s being an idiot. You’re being sassy. It’s okay. It’ll be okay. “Shut up and fuck me now.”

* * *

“Girls fake it way more than you think,” you scoff, propping your legs on his dash. Namjoon eyes your feet on his pristine dash but says nothing.

Namjoon somehow had a car he never chose to use. When he found out the wedding was about 4 hours away, he’d offered to drive. Not wanting to third wheel Taehyung and Jungkook, you agreed. Plus, you want to use the time to set things straight. Things had gone back to normal, scaling back to just sex instead of Namjoon’s more… talkative sexual ideas he wanted to try out. Still, you  _ felt _ something not normal. You wanted to dash it out quickly. You’d cleverly changed the conversation in the direction of sex.

“I don’t know, I feel like there are some things you can’t fake,” Namjoon shrugs, repositioning his hands on the wheel. He’s fidgeting.

You smile, feeling a bit devilish. You wonder if he’s speaking about you. And when he rolls his shoulders, sitting straighter, you know he is.

“Oh come on, you are going to say you’ve never faked it? At least to make it feel more in the moment?” You tease.

Namjoon’s eyebrows narrow in thought, but his mouth pops open in confusion. He takes a hand off the wheel to articulate his thoughts, swirling them before him like he tends to do. “I don’t even know how I would go about it. I guess if I ever faked it, it would be in the moment. Like something I thought needed to happen.”

You lean forward, hands on your knees to get a good look at him. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about! You do it for the scene. It’s all performance.” You size him up as what you say sinks in. “Try it.”

He looks at you again then puts both hands back at 10 and 2. “Try what.”

“Namjoon!” You whine, but you see a smile creep on his face. “Fake it til you make it.”

“What would I even say,” he grumbles, tucking his chin in.

“Something like,” you drop your voice, “oh, yeah, take it.”

Namjoon snorts. “Have I ever said that?”

“I don’t know, you could.”

“Is that a request?”

You pause, making a mental note. “Maybe.”

Namjoin laughs at that. It’s light, carefree. “Regardless, I don’t think anyone needs to fake it with me.” He rolls his shoulders back again, suddenly very intent on the road. “Especially you.”

You cock your head, turning your body towards him. “Oh?” You lean forward, and Namjoon leans into the driver’s window. “Is that a challenge, sir?”

Namjoon gives you an incredulous look. “What is with you today?”

“Okay fine, I’ll prove it,” You take a deep breath, clutch your heart, and fall back into your seat. “Oh, yes! Fuck, Joon, fuck me! Uh huh, uh huh, oh god, fuck yes, fuck it’s so good, yeeees!!” You whine, hissing out the “s” between your teeth as you send him a knowing glance.

He’s staring, jaw dropped, one arm fallen from the wheel. His eyes are wide, like after he laughs, but his plump lips are parted in awe.

You nudge towards the light. “It’s green, Joon.”

Namjoon blinks twice, grabs the wheel, and shifts from first to third in record time. You cackle to yourself. 

Until you’re latching onto the safety handle when Joon swerves into the right lane, taking two quick lefts, eyes darting over the scenery. He takes a gravel road and finally stops in a back, empty lot. Besides the entrance, trees line the small gravel area.

He throws the car in park, slaps his hand on your headrest, and takes in a deep breath through his nose.

“You mind fuck,” he growls, other arm bracing on the gear shift to crowd towards you.

You giggle, tracing your finger down his nose.

“Did I hurt your ego?” you pout, watching his jaw twitch as you run a hand under his chin.

Namjoon’s mouth twitches into a faint smile. “Far from it,” he says, voice heavy. “I sense a challenge.”

“Oh?” You tilt your head, leaning closer towards him. “What’s that?”

“You can’t hide from me,” he laughs, and the sweet smell of his cherry chapstick puffs on your face. “I know it’s real. And I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

You close the distance, lips barely ghosting on Joon’s as his weight leans farther into your space. “You gonna prove it to me?” You nip his bottom lip. It’s chaste, your hand wrapping around the back of his neck. You throw on your sex voice again as you whine, “Gonna pull me out of this car and fuck me good, big boy?”

You go in for another kiss, but Joon’s fist is in your hair, holding you back. A slight gasp escapes your lips. He chuckles, expression amused. It irks you, wanting to beat him down.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard someone’s gonna hear you.”

“Hear me?” You ask. You check the window behind him, but all the windows are rolled up.

Joon already dropped his grip and is unbuckling to throw his car door open. You feel a cold rush fill your stomach as he rounds the side. He flings your door wide and you recoil inward in shock.

“Isn’t this what you want?” He slaps his hand on the roof as he ducks in to look at you. There’s a slight pause, his eyes suddenly soft and searching. You nod, hands still wrapped around you protectively.

At your permission, his smile grows, those beautiful pearly whites on display under hooded eyes.

“Get the fuck out here,” he growls and yanks you by the arm out of the car. You almost squeal from the change in his character getting you so hot. “It’s what you’ve been egging me on for, isn’t it?”

He grips both your biceps, slamming you against the side of the car, and takes a handful of your hair again to hold you upright when your feet trip over themselves. Another breathier whine escapes before you can stop it. Joon catches it, smile only growing.

“That fake?” Joon tilts your head this way and that. You nod, biting back a giggle. Joon lifts an eyebrow, sucking in his cheeks. Before you know it, he has you flipped around, body pressed into the side of his car. Rough hands slide down your sides. It’s like you’re being frisked. You resist the urge to cry out a  _ yes, officer _ . 

The gravel crunches as he squats, rough hands smacking your thighs to step apart. He runs his hands up the exposed skin and tugs off your underwear so hard that the soft fabric chafes your thighs.

“Won’t be needing these.” you feel that cold rush again that’s matched by an aching between your legs. He grips the bottom of your skirt and yanks it up. The material bunches at your hips. The cold air ghosts across your legs, the side of the car cold against you.

Namjoon smacks your ass and you yelp, hips bucking into the cold exterior of the car. “Hm, I don’t know, it’s hard to tell.” He rubs his hand into the skin soothingly before another blow lands. You squeal this time, biting down on your lip. You’re getting spanked practically on the side of the road. It’s dirty, your panties bunched up on the ground.

“How about-” Namjoon’s hand lands a stinging blow before he finishes, catching you off guard, a high-pitched whimper coming from you. “I don’t know, sounds pretty real,” he murmurs in your ear, nipping at the shell. A shudder runs through your body as Namjoon crowds against you. His rough hands are squeezing at your thighs, the roughness of his jeans pressing against your ass.

“Out here?” you whisper-shout, trying to look over your shoulder down at him.

Namjoon tsks, standing again. “What do you mean, out here?” he chides with a smack to your ass. You squeal again, the sting warming you against the chill in the air. “I’ve got a point to make. Need some witnesses.”

You gasp when his teeth run across your neck before his tongue follows. “Gotta let them know I fuck you so good you don’t need to fake it.”

Your knees almost buckle at the tone of his voice. When he holds you down, you can’t help the way your body goes pliant. You love the way he handles you.

With a whine, your head lulls onto the roof of his car to cool your burning cheeks. It’s dirty. It’s all dirty.

Joon’s gotten so good at being a dirty man when you’re being a bratty girl.

But it only gets better when he’s taking your wrists, and your panties become a pair of makeshift cuffs, pinning your arms behind you.

“Fuck me,” you whine. He doesn’t acquiesce. You’re met with another stinging hand against your ass, dangerously low. You struggle to get a look at him, to fight back, but Joon has a palm between your shoulder blades. Another strong hand on your ass has you whining in pain.

“Hm, sounded a bit more like it,” Joon hums, and another smack comes to your ass before he digs fingernails deep in the skin, dipping towards your inner thighs. You can imagine him, jaw slack as he parts your cheeks, the arch of your back letting him get a sneak peek of your pussy, already wet.

You’re proven right when he slides a hand down your spine. Your body jolts when he runs over your ass, continuing down push two fingers in. It’s different, the curl of his fingers hitting new places, but you love it. Relish the cold air, the heat on your most likely bruising ass, the feel of him inside you.

“What can’t you fake, I wonder?” he muses. “Get this wet just for the hell of it?”

You giggle in pleasure, loving how he’s talking to you. But you cry out when he pushes your head into the curve of the car.

“Having fun?” He growls. 

“Mmhm,” you breathe out. The whir of traffic on the road and the sound of his fingers pumping in and out of your sopping core has you scared yet incredibly turned on.

Three fingers press in and your mind blurs. “Want your fat cock,” you groan. The sound of a decked-out truck passes by, too loud, too close.

“Want your fat cock,” Joon mimics, voice whiney. “Is that one of your games, too? You gonna moan it just like that for any man?”

Something in your heart stutters. It almost sounds like... jealousy. You want to turn, catch the anger on his face, see how upset he is at the thought of you with another man.

“Mm-mm,” You try to spit hair out of your mouth, but his palm is pressing into your cheek. “Only you. So fuckin thick.”

A slap to your ass. “Don’t I know it.”

He finally releases your head, and you roll your neck. The sound of a zipper has your knees quaking. His fingers pull out and you push back, empty and unstimulated.

“Fuck, please Joonie,” you whine, desperate for it.

The shuffling of jeans and zippers stops. “Oh I see,” he sighs. You glance over your shoulder. The strain on your neck hurts, but you can’t stop once you look. 

Joon, in a white fitted Tee, pecs flexed from gripping his dick untucked from his loose jeans. The backdrop of pines and foliage makes his tanned skin and the white shirt pop. And of course, the way his slender fingers roll over the swollen head of his cock. It’s a sight to behold.

“That’s the game you play, huh?” He walks forward and you breathe a sigh of relief, only for him to tap his cock against your ass, rubbing up and down between your folds, never going in. You whimper in protest.

“It’s not for me, it’s for you,” he realizes, other arm bracing on the car next to you. You want to know what it looks like, both of you half-dressed, on the side of the road, his cock teasing your body pressed to his dusty car. But there’s no way he’ll let you turn around.

“You just want to get your way. Whining and begging to get this dick,” he rubs the head over your entrance. But when you push back, he pulls away with a tut. 

You sputter out a frustrated breath. You’re seconds from stamping your foot. Your body aches for his palms grabbing at you, his cock shoved deep in you, hot breath on your neck. But he’s just standing back, cock tapping on your ass. This Joon might be too much for you to handle.

“Joon,” you whine, shifting your hands tired behind you. “Joonie, please.” You know he wants this. He wants to hear you beg. But right now, you want to beg. You need him.

He obliges, just a tad. “Oh my god,” is all you can manage, the head pushing in. You already feel the stretch, can practically feel it pop in when the ridge tucks between your labia. “Fuck me,” you groan, finally stamping your foot a bit.

“Okay,” Joon says. The nonchalance in his voice is a mere warning. From where your head rests on the edge of the car, you see his fingers tighten on the roof next to you, his other hand latching onto you, thumb pressing into the dip of your back, and suddenly his hips are snapped flush against yours. It’s a deep, pounding rhythm that immediately has tears running down your cheeks as you fall limp in his grip, his own body holding you up against the car.

“Fuck,” you rub your head against the hood of the car, trying to blink away the tears. You want to grab onto him, anything, but your hands simply twist in the panty-tie. Joon gives a light chuckle, slowly pulling out before angling your hips out, slamming back in.

The ache from the ass-smacking returns each time his hips crash into you. You can’t fucking care about the passersby when you are getting fucked this tough, head pressed into the hood of his car, fingers pulling on your panty-cuffs, stomach and thighs bouncing against the car with each merciless thrust. And Joon sounds like he’s enjoying every second of it, which only heightens your bliss.

The next slew of profanity is fucked out of you as Joon continues on with satisfied grunts, readjusting the angle and laughing each time you moan louder. You can’t stand his laughing, your body burning at how you can do nothing but take it and  _ love it _ .

“Guess you aren’t gonna come like this, huh?” He huffs out. “Gonna tell me you faked it to spare my feelings?”

You bite your lip. You’d never faked it with him. You shake your head.

“That’s what I thought,” he leans forward, elbow on the car and bracing on your hair, tugging you to the side. The delicious wrench makes your mouth fall open.

“I treat that pussy so good,” he gruffs, now flush against you besides the push and pull of his hips. The hand bruising your hipbone slides forward, familiar with your body, rubbing over your clit with agile hands. You blush, remembering when he watched you so intently to know just how to make you come.

But you can’t dwell too long as your knees begin to buckle, feeling yourself clench around his thick length and your orgasm draw nearer with each glide of his fingers in time with the brutal depth he maintains. And then it takes you by surprise. He presses wet kisses just below your ear, pads of his fingers pressing hard over your clit. The flurry of sensation sends a shudder through your body that pushes you over the edge, causing your whole body to quake as you cry out in silence through a locked-jaw.

As the wave of your orgasm crashes, your breaths come out in stuttered fucks and cries. He does not relent, even when your hands twist and struggle to break from between you as he rides you into overstimulation.

“Goddammit,” you groan as he continues to thumb at your clit. “It’s-“ you hiccup and whine as he picks up pace. When he starts lightly sucking at the base of your neck, you wonder if you might orgasm a second time.

“Mmhmm, that’s what I thought.” Joon tries to croon through grunts. He pulls back, both hands on your ass and he jerks you forward. You just moan, full weight on the car as he uses you to meet his own end, fucking in hard and deep before his hips stutter, hips and a long, soft sigh leaves his lips. If you close your eyes, you can imagine his face, jaw jutted out, eyes cast down to where his cock comes in and out of you, the trees painted behind him. You feel the familiar shake of his legs and giggle a bit, only for him to bite into your shoulder.

“Brat,” he growls, knowing exactly why you’re laughing.

“You love it,” you tease. He hooks his hand in your panty cuffs, yanking hard to get them off. You pout, the scene clearly over now.

He spins you, and your back is to the window, his hand cupping your cheek, the other on your waist. He pulls you in for one kiss, lingering before he lets you go. You follow him, tipping onto your toes, for one more.

One more taste of that dirty mouth.

When you open your eyes, he’s already watching. His eyes search yours for something.

“Maybe I do,” he whispers, before tucking himself back in and smacking the hood as he walks back around to the driver’s side. “Come on, we got three more hours.”

You watch him, somehow radiant in just jeans and a white T-shirt. You look at your surroundings and start to think about how you ended up here. With him.

Why you chose him to be the one to end up here with.

You shake your head, and skip over to the door, slamming it shut behind you. When he twists the key in the ignition, you twist to face him. “Can we do this every hour?” 

Joon rolls his eyes. “What has gotten into you lately...”

You don’t talk much for the rest of the ride after that. A few cute photos on your phone or funny text images to describe to Namjoon as he drives. Otherwise, he switches playlists and you stare out the window. The more familiar the scenery, the more anxiety seeps into your limbs.

You’re torn between dealing with the memories in your mind or starting a conversation to avoid them. But you’re too nervous to talk to Namjoon, not sure where he will direct the conversation this time, so you focus on the pines that whir by on the highway which is now down to two small lanes.

_ Get out, _ your mother’s voice shouts in your mind,  _ Just go. _

Yoongi’s expression through the years plays through your mind, pausing on the last time you’d seen him. Pained, angry, backing away. Your mind whirls with other faces leaning in closer. The smell of beer almost tangible in your nostrils. Faces of old friends, no longer friends. Boys shouting on your parents’ front lawn.

You sigh deeply and ask Namjoon to turn the music up. You stare straight ahead. It’ll be fine. Things are different. You’re different. But in the car with Namjoon, who you are nervous to even speak to again, makes you wonder how fine things are. If you’ve ever actually changed. 

You manage to hold off your worries until the hotel. You told Namjoon your house is packed with the wedding party, but you really don’t want to see your parents. Not that it’s a bother, because Taehyung and Jungkook are also at the hotel since his parents moved out of the town shortly after Jungkook did.

The hotel smells nice, as in unfamiliar. You’d scanned the streets as you drove through town. Things felt stale, like that strange sense of homey and luxury that still wants you to leave eventually. You get your key cards, let Jungkook know you’ve arrived, and head up to the floor the four of you would share your rooms on.

It’s not until that moment that it finally crosses your mind as to what is going to happen. Namjoon is meeting your friends. You can one-off meeting your parents. But now, he’ll be connected to those you see every day on top of Hoseok. 

As you both shuffle down the hall, you try to grapple with how to handle the way you’ve entangled Namjoon in your life even more. It barely dawns on you when Jungkook calls out, “Namjoon?”

Namjoon glances down at you with his head tilted in surprise. You shrug and say, “Maybe Taehyung told him about you. You two met, right?”

Namjoon’s expression remains confused. He turns and you follow. Jungkook and Taehyung are standing near the elevators, but Jungkook’s face doesn’t look welcoming or shy like usual. He’s shocked, even perplexed. Eyes wide and mouth open.

Namjoon breaks into a strange smile. You stare between Namjoon and Jungkook, a little confused. “It’s been a while, Jungkook. Why are you here?”

“This is Yoongi’s wedding,” Jungkook practically coughs out. Taehyung, as unsure of what is going on as you, clings to Jungkook’s arm at the sound of his tone.

Namjoon’s bags drop to the floor. He looks at you with a dumbfounded expression, then the two in the hall, then the ceiling. He takes a deep breath and breathes out, “Yoongi?”

The name doesn’t sound foreign in his mouth. There’s something attached to it.

You don’t know what you’ve done, but this can’t be good.

If only to make matters worse, you hear your step-brother, Yoongi, speak. The sound of his deep voice, always sounding a little sleepy, should make you happy if not melancholic. Instead, your heart drops as you hear him remark in a low tone of disbelief, “Namjoon?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do have some unfortunate news. I've got new projects at work, and I'm moving in the next few weeks. Because of this, the update for chapters 8-10 will probably be a month out. I'm sorry for the delay, and I hope you stick around!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As history repeats itself, you're forced to remember what happened the last time you were home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **please note the new warnings for cheating and brief violence! This chapter is very emotional!  
> Hi everyone, thanks for the wait! I actually haven't moved yet, so it may be a bit before the next chapter. I hope this super long one holds you over :) Thank you for all the kind comments and wishes on the last chapter ^_^  
> The "~*~*~*~" indicate time jumps during the flashback

“Namjoon.” Your step-brother stands in the hall, hands balled, face blank. 

No, no. This isn’t what is supposed to happen.

You look between Namjoon and Yoongi, not sure what to do as they both stare. Namjoon’s eyes are wide, lips parted, reaching forward but unmoving. “I, Yoongi, I.”

Your step-brother says nothing. It’s in his dark eyes, even from here. The disbelief, the hurt. The way his lips are also parted, brows furrowed like he’s not sure what to say. 

He turns on his heel and heads back the way he came And it hurts. The coldness hurts so, so bad. Your heart plummets then rockets into action. “No, I promise I-”

Namjoon’s strong grip hooks your elbow and you almost reel backward. You turn on him, ready to shout, but he’s already shaking his head, still not speaking. Confused and bewildered at whatever is happening, you run to meet JUngkook who already walks towards you. You cling to him, suddenly terrified he’ll leave and never come back. Just like Yoongi. Like everyone. Your eyes sting as you look up at your roommate. “Please, Jungkook. I didn’t know it. Believe me. I don’t know what’s going on I just-”

“I know,” Jungkook says, large hands on your arms. His touch is always so soft. He looks down at you, eyes already a little wet. Just like you, he may be remembering the last time you were all together. The last time you and Yoongi walked away from each other. The last time he’d had that look on his face. 

He knows how fragile this moment was.

And you ruined it.

“I’ll go talk to him,” he says quietly. Or maybe he’s not being quiet, maybe the panic in your ears is blocking everything out. He turns to Taehyung who just nods, pulling out his phone like that will occupy him and steps into the room. It’s hard to let go of him, but you do, feeling your bottom lip tremble already. As you stand there, your mind flickers and you see your mom’s house, Jungkook walking away from you and after Yoongi. Taehyung’s door closing makes you jump.

Namjoon still stands, staring after Yoongi. His shoulders are tense, arm still hovering from where he’d grabbed you when he’d reached out for Yoongi. Why? Why did Yoongi know him? Why would Namjoon reach for him?

He finally lets out a breath. When he turns back, you almost flinch. He looks broken. The tense shoulders sag and his cheeks dimple where he chews on them in contemplation. His eyes dart around the pattern on the floor, not looking at you.

“I need a minute,” Namjoon finally says softly, so quietly against the ringing in your ears. You just stare back. Namjoon picks up his bag and yours, slides the key into the hotel door, and steps inside. Your mind reminds you this isn’t the first time you saw a forlorn look as someone closes the door in an old house where you just left, heartless, unaware.

You’re alone in the hallway.

You tumble down the hall and smash the button of the elevator. You don’t know where to go. You can’t go in the room. You don’t want to be confined anyways. As the light shifts between floors, you feel the air from the hall get sucked out around you. As it opens, you practically fall in, the vacuum from the hall somehow following you into the elevator like a deafening blanket. You grip the banister, refusing to look at the reflective, fogged glass that lines the walls. You try to count in your head, anything to block out your brother’s face, Namjoon’s Jungkook’s.

As you step out, you don’t know what to do. You’re suddenly aware that Yoongi may be on this floor, trying to leave. Running out of your house when you should have been the one leaving.

You shake your head. Your vision gets fuzzy.

You don’t want to be seen. You don’t want to see him again. You look around. Even though you’ve never been here, everything feels too familiar. The trees outside, the way the people dress, everyone looks like someone you could know in this fucking small town. So many people you don’t want to run into. So many people who you don’t want to run into you.

You step into the small bar lounge and feel yourself sink into a low seat without really feeling it. You hear the fake leather fabric squeak against your thighs as you slope back. Distantly, someone asks if you are alright. You nod. You stare at the tabletop, so shiny that it reflects your own image back to you. A sad laugh catches in your throat. You look the same as the girl who was here last. And fuck, you feel the same way you did when you left.

You are the same. You can’t change. Even without trying, you fuck things up. You get hurt and hurt. You see the bedroom, feeling cold despite the summer heat while you’re naked on the bed.

You squeeze your eyes shut. Yoongi’s face just now, Jungkook concerned for what to do, a man looking at you at a loss... 

It all comes rushing back so fast. You dig your fingers into your hair and curl over, trying to breathe deep as the memories crest and crash in your mind.

* * *

You still, from time to time, find yourself wondering how things would be different if you hadn’t met him that day. Jeremy. 

It wasn’t him, exactly. You didn’t want to credit that cheating asshole with anything in your life. But if you hadn’t met him, loved him, and lost him, would everything else still happen?

So many things set into motion from there. You can think before him when you had crushes, dated people. But he was a catalyst for your fear. Maybe it was bound to be that you’d be scared to love again whenever your heart broke, no matter who broke it. You’d already had it coming. A build-up of failed relationships. Of failure. Of failing. To love and be unloved too many times and you broke. Only to break others. Only to keep breaking.

Because honestly, it had already started to crack long before that.

That day you met him even, you’d already been hurt by your mother’s cold words. Nothing new.

You sit in the cracked bus parking lot of your high school. The only high school in the small city, even open to the towns in the area. Most of the buses had filed out of the lot already. You’d watched each, tucked away on this side of the curb long before school let out, glaring at the highway. You wish you had a fucking car and could get away from here.

“Whadyou do this time?” Yoongi calls from afar. You turn, scanning the sidewalk for your best friend. It’s easy to spot him. Dressed in all black, he looks as though he could melt into the asphalt. It was an unusually warm spring, but that never deterred Yoongi from his dark aesthetic.

You pick at the chipping paint on your nails until he plops down next to you. With a snort and a shrug, you inquire, “Did she call you to complain?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. He takes his hands out of his hoodie and picks at his own chipping nails. “Might as well have. Why am I always the confidant?”

“Because you are the perfect child she always wanted,” you grumble. You’d been glaring at the line of trees behind the bus lot for so long your ass was numb. Yoongi had taken too long to find you this time. The silence stretches on for a bit as the last bus pulls out of the lot. It’s loaded with kids like you two. Stuck for now and maybe stuck forever.

“I told her I like girls,” you whisper. You’re sure of it. You’d already told Yoongi about Joy, the hottest girl in school who also happened to be out already. But announcing it again in the face of someone you love is scary. Especially after your mom had thrown it back at you. Just one individual who reflected the larger opinion of your town.

 _Really?_ She’d asked. _You have to add that to the list, too_?

 _I wanted you to know,_ you’d argued. Because you did. What if you brought a girl home?

 _Well, no one else needs to know, do they?_ She’d said, huffing as she fixed already perfect dishes and stormed out of the kitchen.

To your mom, you did all these things to spite her. Bad grades, bad attitude, not normal. You just wanted to be you. You didn’t lie or hide things. It was exhausting. So when you could not get over Joy the cute guitarist from choir most any chance you saw her, you’d admitted it to yourself and the world. Yoongi had to deal with your lovesick sighs and little bubbling praises for weeks. But, of course, the day after you told your mother, not only did she get pissed, but Joy got a girlfriend.

You are not that girlfriend.

So here you are, skipping last period to stare at the bus lot and wait for Yoongi to come over and listen to you complain as always.

“But you mean along with dick, right?” Yoongi checks. His surprisingly crass comment makes you giggle. Yoongi didn’t talk often, especially not as much as you and Jungkook, but he always knew what to say. Ever since you were kids, it was his job to reassure you and Jungkook. You, that you were doing okay and Jungkook that his mom would return. And when she didn’t, it was to assure him that he would be okay.

And it was your job to be loud for them and fight for them. To bitch at Jungkook’s bullies, to sass back at anyone picking on Yoongi. To stand up for yourself. As your mother often remarked, arguing is something you are best at.

Yoongi stops picking at his nails finally and holds his hand out. You quickly take it, a feeling of relief washing over you. Honestly, you’d been waiting for this. He always offered it, his gentle touch. It was his way of saying _I’m here for you_ without having to talk any more than he wanted to about it. You tuck both hands in your lap happily. His grip is surprisingly tight today, and you glance down at your hands. You notice the way his fingers have gotten longer, the veins twisting from where his jacket ends and out over his knuckles. You bring the hand close to your face without letting go. “Woah, your hands look manlier every day.”

“I am a man,” Yoongi states with blush and tugs, but you don’t let go.

“Sometimes I forget,” you tease, staring wistfully into the distance. “To think my Yoongi would grow into a man someday. Maybe, soon, you’ll own more than four shirts, too.”

Yoongi grumbles, standing and yanking you to your feet as you burst into giggles. “Come on, let’s go pick up Jungkook.”

You nod, prancing alongside him. Now that most of the buses left, the sidewalk is relatively empty. It’s nice, having space for just you two without the rush of students. “Isn’t this cute? Our little family going to pick up our little brother?”

“Yeah, so excited to be stuck with you,” Yoongi teases, but he smiles a bit.

The best thing your mother did was agree to marry Yoongi’s father. After years of being “shamefully” divorced and left alone, your mother had found refuge in the only other single parent in the town. You’d found refuge in Yoongi and later Jungkook, two shy boys who followed you around as kids. Funny, now you tend to follow Yoongi’s lead. Your mother, terrified not to fit in and also be the center of gossip, had set her sights on Yoongi’s father. Anything for her was better than being the single woman in town, especially with such a reckless daughter. Your parents had played an obnoxious game of tiptoeing around each other for most of your childhood. Finally, they were tying the knot this summer when you and Yoongi graduated.

“Jungkook’s friends are already talking about his ‘hot older cousin’,” Yoongi adds.

“Wow, I have work to do. I’m supposed to be the _scary_ hot older cousin,” You giggle, wrapping yourself around Yoongi’s arm despite the sun and his layers. You both walk for a bit, Yoongi singing some melody under his breath while you bop your head. It had been your _thing_. Whenever you were mad or panicking or Jungkook was upset, he’d make up a song. When you were younger, Yoongi would encourage you both to sing along. Any words were fine. Now, it’s eased into a soothing habit whenever silence lulls between the two of you. He’d always been there to comfort you. “I’ll probably survive all this thanks to you.”

Yoongi blushes again, but you can’t be sure if it’s the heat. “You only survived this far because of me. You would have failed Stats a second time.”

“Fair point,” you agree.

You walk a bit as Yoongi hums, passing the houses that line the street on the way to the only middle school in the town. Jungkook would be in high school next year. _No longer a kid_ _,_ he said. Too bad for him, he’d always be a kid to the two of you. Practically your kid. Both your parents worked, so you and Yoongi spent more time as Jungkook’s guardians more than anyone else.

“You know,” Yoongi says after a bit. He sounds casual, but his hand tightens in yours. “I’m the same way.”

“You only survived because of me?” You ask, honestly surprised he’d admit something so forthcomingly.

“I like both,” Yoongi mumbles.

“Huh?” You ask. You’re not paying attention much, searching for Jungkook out front of the schoolyard in the maze of kids and parents.

“Guys and girls, you know,” Yoongi shrugs. He scratches at his ear, and the telltale that he’s trying to act cool catches your attention. “Liking, um, both.”

Oh. _Oh._ Your hand falls to your side as you stop waving for Jungkook to see.

“Yeah?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

You smile, but your heart feels a little heavy. It won’t be the same, you think. Even though Yoongi is a goth kid, he’s so perfect. The parents never complain and above all, he’s strategic. Yoongi will know, as always, the right time to bring it up. He won’t tell your parents until it’s necessary. He won’t blurt it out and make sure everyone knows. He’s always like that. Knows best.

You shake your head. That’s not what this is about.

“That’s cool,” you smile. “We’re even more alike. Maybe it’s a family gene.”

Yoongi scoffs, but he smiles. You wonder how long he’s been keeping it in. You know that he hasn’t been keeping it from you. He just couldn’t find a time to mention it, a need to mention it. You squeeze his hand tighter. He’d told you now, as always, to connect with you in his own way and lighten the load.

Jungkook dashes out of the school building in a flash of fluffy brown hair, and that’s the end of it. before he’s even next to the both of you, he blabbers on about some new console. 

Before he gets to you, though, someone sprints from the steps quick behind him, looking frantic. His grey _STAFF_ t-shirt rides up as he heads over, arms flexing and curly, black hair a mess as he calls out to Jungkook in a deep voice. Jungkook turns quickly at his name and waves, still jogging up to you two. The man’s thick eyebrows scrunch up, and as he draws closer, you’re taken by how sweet his brown eyes look as he keeps a hawkeye on Jungkook.

“Jungkookie,” you sing, ruffling his hair. He reaches up, swamped in one of Yoongi’s old shirts, and fixes his hair with a pout. You lean in to whisper, “Who’s the hottie?”

“Gross,” he grumbles. Yoongi laughs as you ruin Jungkook’s hair on purpose this time.

“Hey there,” the man comes to a stop. He tosses his untamed black hair out of his eyes, and wow, he is hot. “You guys know this superstar?”

“We’re his pickup,” Yoongi says while you just smile at the man. “You new?”

The man beams. Wow, he has nice teeth, too. “Yeah, just started interning. Taking education classes at the community college.”

“Ah,” is all Yoongi says.

“That’s so cool,” you say. A college boy. A college boy who didn’t go to your high school last year. New, hot, college boy. Very nice.

“I guess,” he says, bending down to Jungkook who is giving you the stink eye. “Hey dude, you cool?”

“Cool,” Jungkook nods, giving the man a high five. A college guy that Jungkook is comfortable around. Your little Jungkook is so shy around new people. The fact that this guy has won him over already makes your heart skip a beat. Very, very nice.

Yoongi nudges your shoulder after you stare too long. You blush furiously and laugh like an idiot as you take Jungkook’s hand. Trying to appear like a functional human who can speak more than two words, you ask, “How long will you be working?”

“Okay, bye,” Yoongi gruffs, tugging you and Jungkook away.

You pout at his curtness, but send a flirtatious wave to the intern. As soon as your down the sidewalk, you badger Jungkook again. “Who is he?”

“He teaches PE,” Jungkook nods as he remembers correctly, yet he doesn’t provide a name. Your smile only grows. Hot, he works out.

“Your mom will flip if you date a college guy,” Yoongi scolds. He already knows where your mind is going, of course.

“My mom has already flipped about my grades, about coming home late, about the fact that I have bomb clothing choices,” you list off on your fingers.

“People think he is cool,” Jungkook pipes up. “You’re both cool. Maybe you can be friends. Everyone thinks I’m cool because you hang out with me. I’ll be super cool if you are friends with a teacher.”

“You live with me, too,” Yoongi reminds the youngest. “What am I, chopped liver?”

You snicker at Yoongi’s indignant tone over being left out. You swing Jungkook’s hand back and forth, both skipping down the sidewalk as Yoongi’s slouches on behind you two. “ _I_ hang out with you Jungkook. So we can be cool together.”

“Hey,” Yoongi pouts.

“Let’s run home,” you suggest to Jungkook. The younger takes off immediately, and you chase after. Yoongi groans, refusing to pick up the pace.

That’s how most days went. The three of you. You had other friends of course, but it always boiled down to you three after school and on the weekends. If one of you had friends around, they became all your friends. A packaged deal. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

~*~*~*~

“So, Kookie,” you say the next time you and Yoongi pick him up. “Where’s your cool PE teacher?”

Jungkook wrinkles his nose. “Ew, gross.”

“Gross again?” you repeat, affronted.

“You always say cool when you want to date someone and don’t want to tell me,” Jungkook explains. Yoongi stifles a laugh, so you shove him instead of Jungkook.

“Okay, maybe I do,” you admit.

“He wants to date you, too,” Jungkook sighs, hopping down the path. You stop though.

“Really?”

“Once again, she’s shocked someone would be interested,” Yoongi says like a TV narrator. He holds his hand to his face like a fake mic and leans in close. “Miss, could you tell us what it’s like to be oblivious to your own charms?”

“I mean,” you try to explain as you shove the “reporter” away. It's not new to anyone that you always have someone around to keep you entertained. Your lunch-friends had nicknamed you Duchess of Dick as a joke, but somehow it stuck around. Just like how many opportunities seemed to float around you. Maybe it wasn’t so much of a surprise, but still, something felt novel about a college boy. “We all been knew everyone is interested once they know _I’m_ interested. But he likes me?”

“He saw you once, he likes how you _look_ ,” Yoongi clarifies. Jungkook nods. They are clearly picking on you, but that’s good enough reason for you. You giggle stupidly to yourself and adjust your shirt like he might be around watching.

Jungkook trips over a crack in the pavement, but Yoongi catches his arm. He holds onto the boy like he’s worried he may fall again. It’s funny to watch Yoongi treat Jungkook like a kid now that he’s almost as tall as him. Yoongi shoots you a glare like he knows the height comment is brewing in your mind. “Didn’t you just announce to your mom that you like girls?”

“And?” You say. “I still like guys.”

You almost tack on _just like you_ but refrain. If Yoongi just admitted it to you, there’s no way he’s told Jungkook.

“What’s the point of bringing it up, then?” Yoongi sighs. “To your mom. You know how she’d react.”

“She can be scary,” Jungkook winces.

“To be myself,” you say. Your mom and her ridiculous rules don’t scare you. Losing yourself and becoming just another face in this town scares you. “You know, not hide anything.”

“But you _should_ hide some things from your parents. Like they hide things from kids,” Jungkook explains, walking backward. You jump at him, but he quickly walks faster without tripping this time.

“Wow, when did you get so mature?” You tease.

“I’m gonna be a high schooler, of course, I’m mature,” Jungkook explains with his nose tilted higher.

“Mhm, sure. Do you know what high schoolers do? Date. So that PE coach...” you say again. Jungkook wrinkles his nose and runs away before you can question him more.

It’s the next week. When you pick up Jungkook, Jeremy is waiting. He asks you out. You say yes. The song and dance doesn’t last long. He surprises you. It’s a simple date, and you find out later he’d asked Jungkook what you’d like. 

And soon, you have something new to piss off your mom about. Once you started dating, of course, you brought him around. Even Yoongi seemed to be okay with him. Or maybe, tolerated him. After the first time Jeremy offered to help you both “study”, Yoongi gave up 10 minutes in because you two are, in the words of Jungkook, gross together.

Jeremy was great. His friends were great. He took you on dates, listened to you, let you tag along to everything. Before you knew it, he had integrated himself completely into your life. His friends were your friends, and your friends from high school became his friends. It didn’t bother you that sometimes you both hung out with each other's friends without the other. You trusted him completely. You loved him.

~*~*~*~

“I fucking hate statistics,” you whine, shoving your book across the living room floor. Truthfully, studying with Jeremy wasn’t going well. Now that the exam is around the corner, you’d fallen back to Yoongi tutoring you again.

“Why?” Yoongi asks perched against the couch cushions that you’ve both scattered across the floor. He doesn’t look up, just keeps fiddling with his calculator.

“Because I really fucking try and still fail,” you sigh.

“Maybe try harder,” Yoongi teases, a small smile pulling at his cheeks.

“Trying leads to nothing,” you assert, crawling over to the book just to close it. You lay your head on it like a pillow and watch your best friend work.

“Looks like you’re trying real hard. Sorry, it’s not being rewarding,” Yoongi drawls.

You sigh. Yoongi continues to work. You sigh harder. He keeps ongoing.

“Want to take a break?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m _trying_ to work,” Yoongi says as he picks up his pencil again.

You groan, rolling over until you are laying on top of his books. Yoongi squawks, trying to shove you off. “That was such a bad joke. Math is killing your sense of humor.”

“Get off! I’m almost done!” Yoongi shouts, but he’s laughing. You refuse to move, gripping onto his thighs. He continues to shove and you both just laugh.

“Don’t distract him when he’s actually working,” your mother’s cool voice comes from the other side of the couch. You both pause, glancing her way, but she just keeps on walking to the door.

When it closes, Yoongi looks down at you. “She can be bitchy.”

“Thank you, captain obvious,” you sigh. You stand. “Let me stop distracting you.”

“Awh,” Yoongi whines with a pout. You kick his foot and nod toward the kitchen. Beer time.

Yoongi hid a lot of himself from your parents. You didn’t. But, you weren’t going to interfere with Yoongi and whichever way he wanted to be perceived. That wasn’t your place.

So you were out, and he wasn’t. You drank and partied with your cool college boyfriend, but Yoongi tried to sneak out and quietly sipped his beer on the couch. He found reward in timing when he’d tell them things about himself, and you just wanted to be you. It was always like that.

So when Yoongi announced he was still going to college despite his rants against institutionalized learning, you weren’t surprised. He hadn’t even told your parents he was applying, and they’d never asked. Unlike you, they assumed he was doing what was best for himself. 

“No one _needs_ college,” Yoongi shrugs. You’re crowded onto the couch beside him while Jeremy talks to some friends outside, barely able to hear your best friend over the base shaking the house. “It’s just another institution that’s been mutilated to support a capitalist economy.”

You snort. “Says the one who is actually going to a four-year college.”

“Yeah, well, I kinda need a degree just to get connections,” Yoongi sips his beer and looks at the stars. Yoongi had slowly started to sell more of his music online. He wanted to become a real producer, but to your parents, they assumed he’d be pursuing an engineering degree. They just didn’t know it was audio engineering. “Become the system to break the system.”

“Okay there, Marx,” you tease. You take his drink and take a sip, wrinkling your nose at the sting of whiskey. “Old man.”

“I’m impressed you know who that is,” Yoongi says.

“I pay attention to you more than school. I’ll learn enough.”

You feel Yoongi’s eyes on you at the compliment, so you just drink more of your own beer to wash away the gross taste.

“I bet Jeremy will be glad you are sticking around.”

“Bet mom won’t be.” You’d decided to go to community college. Jeremy was able to get some kind of teaching certification. Maybe if you went and just got… anything, you’d be okay. You still had no idea what you wanted to do, but being with Yoongi and Jeremy seemed good enough. Yoongi was going to a college close enough that he’d still be at home, so it felt more tolerable.

Because now, you kept your own secrets. At this point, you were waiting for Jeremy to finish his degree. To move out once he was done with school and got a real job. That’s what he’d promised.

“She’ll be glad you are getting a degree at all. We didn’t think you’d make it.”

“Asshole.”

“Many disavow those who speak the truth.”

“Okay, get the fuck out of here,” you stand up. “We need to start inviting Jungkook out here.”

Yoongi gets a stern look at that. “No way. He’s our good boy.”

You give a wicked smile. “Just like you?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “You’re asking for it.”

You laugh, falling into him. You hug your best friend close, closing your eyes as you watch Jeremy chat away with a group of friends.

~*~*~*~

“Really, college?” Your mother sniffs the night after Jeremy had accidentally mentioned your decision to go to college.

“I mean, Yoongi’s going, and Jeremy doesn’t make it seem so bad.” You argue.

She pauses at that, looking at Yoongi’s father doing the dishes. “Really?”

You blush. “I mean, yeah. Jeremy said I should at least get an associates. He’ll help me, too.”

“Oh yes,” your mother rolls her eyes. “Of course you’ll listen to the boy and not me. Because his study sessions now go so well.”

You frown. Your mother walked in on the one study break you two took where you’d ended up with your tongue down his throat while practicing your capstone speech. It’s not your fault. Something with Jeremy was so… easy. He knew what to say somehow. And he definitely knew how to touch.

“Well, is that your plan? Stay here, date the boy, get an education?” she asks. She knows what she’s doing. She’s phrasing it to be the very plan that every girl around here follows. One you had denounced over and over again.

But it’s different now. Jeremy made that idea seem… easy. He had a plan. Get his degree, get a job. Get a wife. And honestly, it was easy to fit yourself into that plan when you didn’t have one yourself.

You blush. Yes. That is your plan.

And it stays your plan. You and Jeremy date all through your senior summer and your first year at community college. In a small town, most of the people who didn’t get into a prestigious university ended up at the community college. College was different. Despite living at home, you had freedom. And you spent most of that freedom with your boyfriend. To be loved and accepted and intimate with someone was what you loved most. You had Jungkook and Yoongi, but you’d never share the same kind of touches and desires with them. Even though you didn’t completely approve of your mother’s marriage to Yoongi’s dad, seeing it as a formality, you still thought of them as family. Family you kind of chose.

But college was different beyond freedom. In high school, Jungkook came into his own. He stopped sticking around you and Yoongi so much. And Yoongi spent more and more time at his campus. He joined clubs and even a rec basketball team. So friends that you sometimes saw in high school became closer friends in college. Your group of friends from high school continued to blend with Jeremy’s, especially now that you were all in college.

With a busy schedule, you found your time with Jeremy more infrequent. You found that you genuinely felt interested in your college classes, which was something that took everyone by surprise. You wanted to try. 

He understood when you said you couldn’t join sometimes, either to meet up with Yoongi and Jungkook or to study. His friends invited you out when he couldn’t make it, either. He’d text you that he missed you, and it made your heart swell. He’d tell you he saw how hard you were working whenever you felt bad for actually wanting to study. You started to wonder if this is what it was like. To just fall into a rhythm with someone. It felt nice.

~*~*~*~

“So, Yoongi’s home?” Jeremy asks as he drives you both home from class.

You bounce excitedly in your seat as your house comes into view. Your mother had accepted your relationship, or moreover given up, and you spent more time sleeping at Jeremy’s than your own place recently. For once, you are excited to head home since it means Yoongi. “Yep, the whole weekend!”

“Does that mean I won’t see you the whole weekend?” Jeremy asks. He doesn’t sound remorseful, just focuses on the road with his hand tucked between your bouncing thighs. You smile over at him. It’s nice to date someone so understanding.

“I think so. That okay?” You always ask, just in case. After years of stepping- and occasionally stomping- on eggshells around your mother, you’d at least learned to check in on people’s feelings.

“Of course,” Jeremy finally turns to look at you with a smile. “I hope y’all have fun.”

He pulls into your driveway, and you jump out of the car, swinging around to give him a kiss. He grabs you, pulling you in for one more. It makes you laugh and still blush that after all this time, he still seems to want more.

Yoongi stays the same. You feel like you are growing and changing with Jeremy by your side, but Yoongi was already great to begin with. He’s traded in the skinny jeans for basketball shorts, but that’s about it. As soon as you get in the door, he’s got you in a hug. No _I miss you_ , but this is his own way as you hug him tighter.

He pulls back, absently adjusting his hair. He tried blond at the suggestion of one of his friends, and you want to meet them to say thank you. It makes his dark eyes pop and gives him a gentle countenance.

“Mom home?” You ask.

“Nah,” Yoongi says. “They are actually gone for the weekend. I was gonna invite some basketball friends over, actually.”

“Really?” You hold your hand over your heart. “By stars, is Yoongi going to throw a _house party_?”

“Do not repeat that even as a joke in front of your mom,” Yoongi says quickly. “Just friends. Thought you might want to meet them.”

Which is Yoongi code for, _I want you to meet them_. You feel warm inside, knowing that you still want to keep each other wrapped up in your lives. You nod. “If you’d told me earlier, I would have told Jeremy to stick around! Maybe you all could roast him in Basketball.”

“No,” Yoongi says just as fast. When you blanche, he doubles back. “Aha, maybe not. Just the boys tonight.”

You get a little confused at that. “The boys?”

“Yeah, you know, you’re one of the boys,” Yoongi says teasingly. You roll your eyes and sling your arms around his neck as he turns to head into the kitchen.

“You asshole,” you try to weigh as much as you can on his back. Yoongi grumbles as he reaches for your arms around his neck, holding on rather than trying to pry you off. “C’mon, you stoic gargoyle, you missed me.”

“I always do,” Yoongi says so quietly. “Just want to see you smiling.”

“Wow,” you say. “Super mushy today. Did you start dating someone?”

Yoongi shrugs you off at that. His friends arrive shortly after. The plan backfires for Yoongi as you quickly get along with them and start teasing Yoongi about his high school years.

As he said, it wasn’t a house party. The only things to clean up were pizza boxes and beer bottles. They don’t leave until the early morning and you and Yoongi crash on the couch like old times.

When you wake up, Yoongi’s got cartoons on. He seems to be falling back asleep. It reminds you of the times when he would stay over while his father was on a business trip. With a sleepy grin, you crawl across the couch to where he is sitting.

“Good morning,” you say.

“Good morning,” Yoongi says. “You still snore.”

“You still say that like I care,” you shrug, snuggling close. You watch the cartoons with him, no idea what’s on but guessing it’s something new. It plays on until Yoongi stirs. He takes your hand in his, trying to sit up a bit straighter.

“I’m going to tell you something,” Yoongi says slowly, holding your hand, “that you aren’t going to want to hear. I’m not even sure, but I think you should know.”

You look over at him. He’s still staring straight ahead. The TV flashes over his skin in the unlit living room. “Okay?”

Yoongi side-eyes you. He lingers, just a bit, lips parting to form words but nothing comes out. Then, he looks back at the TV. “I saw Jeremy at the movie theater the other day.”

You wait. Yoongi takes a deep breath.

“With Adriana. They were holding hands. They were alone. They didn’t see me and Kook.”

“Adriana?” You ask. “I mean, she’s one of my friends. They get along well whenever we hang out.”

“No,” Yoongi shakes his head. He turns to you. He twists his arm with yours, interlacing your fingers. “This was not friendly.”

You feel it. That tiny, tiny sense of dread. A snapping. You shake your head. It stays. A nagging thought. Yoongi doesn’t say things just because. He’s decisive in his speech. He would only say something if he felt sure of it. All you say is, “Thank you for telling me.”

There’s an easy way to get rid of anxious thoughts. Just clear the air. Ask.

It takes some courage, though, to break something. To go in knowing what you are about to say may be silly or ruin everything.

It takes you until the end of your day together. Watching him pick up his phone and check it. Not commenting on what he sees. Noticing the way he’s watching you as he watches his phone.

Small things.

It’s confusing. Because he’s been great lately. As of recently, he’s almost upped his “boyfriend game.” Gifts, dates again, hanging out. It almost feels like you just started dating again.

But… had you misread it? Or had Yoongi misread what he saw? Suddenly, over the week, you started to see Jeremy’s understanding in a new light. Always fine with your busy schedule, always hanging with your friends without you. The gifts and dates… was it guilt?

On date night, it culminates in your thoughts in between kisses. Why did your dates suddenly become more scheduled? Why did he check in to know where you were and when? In the silence of his bedroom, the place you’d been sleeping for months, your mind filled with him as you breathe him in, now filled with worry about him. About you together.

As he takes your shirt off, hands wandering over your skin, you can’t help but think where else they had been. There’s no way. He couldn’t touch someone else like this. He wouldn’t. Not your Jeremy. But as he reaches for your shorts, you can’t take it. You can’t keep going like this. You open your eyes, staring down at the man whose lap you sit in. Had someone else sat here? Had those large, dark eyes stared up at someone else the same way he looks at you right now?

You have to ask.

“Hey,” you begin with a gentle shove to his warm skin. “Yoongi saw you at the movies.”

He stiffens. His hold on your arm loosens as he goes rigid. His lips stutter, and you hear it. The catch of his breath.

“You _asshole_ ,” you seethe, sitting upright in bed. You suddenly feel so exposed. And so _dirty_. You glare at those hands that had touched you. Felt you. Pulled you in. “I knew it. I knew you were fucking her.”

“No,” Jeremy corrects, sitting up in bed, too. You aren’t sure if he means _No, you didn’t know._ Because you didn’t. Something in your mind just called for the most intense possible accusation. What Yoongi may have been implying. You climb off his lap, unbelieving of what just happened. You yank your top out of his hands. “We haven’t fucked.”

Confirmation. Right there. In his rejection of the idea, he confirmed everything. So quickly. In one sentence downplaying his actions, your romance fell apart. Your body runs cold, your fingers tingling, before fire burns in your cheeks and through your veins.

“Oh,” you scoff, “but have you done everything else?”

Jeremy stays quiet, mouth opening and closing. He’s completely taken off guard. He knew you had no idea.

“Wait, is this Yoongi? Is he just trying to get you to break up with me?” Jeremy suddenly stumbles out. “He probably just-”

“Don’t,” you say. “This isn’t about him. Did you or did you not fuck my _friend_ , Adriana?”

Jeremy’s tongue comes to the roof of his mouth to say no, but the word doesn’t come out. His brows furrow, fists clenching his sheets.

Piece of shit.

“I fucking stayed here for you!” You shout. You wasted efforts. You fucking stuck around for this asshole to fucking betray you like this.

“I didn’t ask you to!” Jeremy shouted back, leaning into your space. You get off the bed, pacing. “You chose that!”

“You said you didn’t want me to leave!” You screamed. “That you loved me! You wanted to fucking _wife_ me!”

“I did!” Jeremy says. “I just… I like Adriana, too. And I mean, can you blame me? You are so fucking busy. You have all these other people, like _Yoongi_ , and then you started spending all this time in school.”

“Excuse me?” You spit back. “You’re mad I’m studying? You’re the one who convinced me to go to school! And what, I can’t have friends? Where the fuck is this coming from? Why didn’t you just talk to me?”

You grab at the roots of your hair, unable to fathom what is happening. You seriously didn’t come into this expecting it to be true. “And, and you fucked Adriana? What the hell?”

“Because!” Jeremy falls back on the bed. He looks annoyed. Annoyed at you being upset about him cheating. Like it’s an inconvenience. “I knew you’d act like this.”

You crawl over to him. You don’t want to touch him but you also want to be all up in his face, unable to fathom how he isn’t angry or even affected by your own anger. “Like someone who has been _lied_ to, Jeremy? Like someone who’s been sucking a dick that’s been down her best friend’s throat? Christ, how long has this been going on?”

“Three months,” he grumbles, looking away.

You stop in place. He’s not annoyed. He’s complacent. He’s accepted this has happened. Like he’s already done. As you stare down at the man you love, you realize it’s not there. Those eyes from before were just lust. Just something you put there, what you wanted there. This was him. In bed, frustrated he’s having this conversation, distant from you. Not with you. “You were never going to tell me if I didn’t find out.”

Jeremy sits up, rubbing his eyes, and he sighs. He just looks at you. A look that says _just figure it out_. You practically rip your shirt trying to get it over your head, skin crawling at the fact that you are so vulnerable in front of him right now.

“You piece of shit,” you scream, not sure what else to do. You hear someone else in the house startle at your outcry, but you could not give less of a fuck. Let everyone hear you. “You were just going to fuck us both? Let me keep on thinking things were great and then what, just go ‘surprise, Adriana fucks better than you?’”

“Look!” Jeremy sits up, still looking pissed. It pisses you off more. What right does he have to be pissed? “Don’t make it sound like that, you know? I was going to break up with you, okay? Adriana and I had talked about it, but we weren’t sure what to do.”

“Oh, wow, thanks for being so fucking considerate,” your voice cracks. You can’t believe this. Adriana was always with you when your friends hung out. She’d been smiling and laughing just like Jeremy while they both fucked behind your back. How did you not even notice?

“I just… I felt bad… so I tried to, you know, treat you well first.”

You’re stunned. That was why? That was why he’d been so nice, so perfect. _Guilt?_ “Well, you don’t have to worry, I’m breaking up with you.”

Jeremy’s eyebrows lifted. “Really?”

You are at a loss for words now, unable to fathom his reactions. “Are you fucking shocked I’d leave you?”

“I mean,” Jeremy glances away again. “I didn’t… I didn’t know this was ending tonight. I wanted it to go a bit differently.”

You laugh. It’s a chaotic, broken sound. You don’t know what else to do. You don’t even know who he is anymore. You can’t believe this is happening. You’d trusted him. Trusted so fucking _blindly_. It hadn’t ever occurred to you that someone could hurt you like this. Someone you let in. “Well, sorry I didn’t time our break up well for you. It’s not even midnight, so you have plenty of time to go fuck Adriana after I leave.”

Finally dressed, you turn for the door. Jeremy catches your hand before you can storm down the stairs and out of his house. Only minutes before, he’d reached for you. The touch had sent shivers down your spine. Now, your blood runs cold. You yank your hand from his.

“Shouldn’t we talk about this?” Jeremy asks. The furrow in his brow honestly shocks you. The worry fills those dark eyes that always looked on you so kindly. But now, they seem lackluster. The kindness seems like a ruse. He looked at everyone that way.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You laugh again. Now, other emotions start to break through causing your voice to wobble. “You cheated. You fucking treated me like the love of your life while you fucked someone behind my back. You _hid_ it from me. You don’t love me. I’m leaving.”

“But I-” Before he could continue again, you stormed down the steps. Whatever he says will only hurt you more. You are never going back there. Fuck your shit, you don’t want it. Anything that reminds you of him needs to be gone. Your clothes, your things…

But it is so much more than that, you realize. Outside, you take off as the fear courses through your veins and jolts your body into action. He took your time. He’s in your college classes. You’d let him into every part of your life. So much was wasted now. You can’t just toss away time. And worst of all, you can’t just toss your feelings.

You gasp as you trip on the pavement, scuffing your palms, but you stand and run again. The anger pulses in the scratches, so you run harder. You still love him. It had been a shock, but you can’t just leave the love behind like you had your clothes. He was still there. He didn’t love you, it had left you with no control of your own. Out of control. You felt out of control with your inability to just be mad or even better yet feel nothing. 

You run the three blocks back to your house. You’d been so excited to leave there. It was a place, not a home, that functioned on the fact that you were _supposed_ to love the people inside. But every time you reached outside of the house, it always came back broken. You came back broken.

But Yoongi was there. Jungkook was there. Your people who loved you no matter what happened. A different kind of love. Safety. Security.

You burst into the house, so thankful he’s still there, that he hasn’t gone back to his dorm, that he hasn’t left you. You clammer through the living room and to the stairs, suddenly aware of your sobs as the sound of the world around you disappears into the silent house.

Yoongi’s opening his door before you are at the top of the stairs. He stands there, stunned. His soft, dark eyes are wide, chapped lips parted as he stands in his doorway. Those eyes, unlike the ones you’d just run from, always look at you the same. But would they change? Would he leave you, too? You just choke on a sob, taking the few steps down the hall until you are collapsing in his arms. You cling to him, scared he’ll leave, scared of how you feel, scared of what will happen now that you’ve stopped moving.

Yoongi holds you up, stumbling back over your weight.

“Hey?” He asks, sounding nervous. You dig your fingers into his hoodie, refusing to right yourself if it means you can be held by him, trying to breathe in the familiar scent. Comforting, safe. Yoongi.

“Thank you,” you gasp between sobs. “Thank you for not lying. For not waiting. For not hiding it.”

Yoongi wraps his arms around you, and a fresh wave of tears pours out as he holds you close, cheek against your forehead as he takes a few steps into the room slowly. “Of course.”

He drops down onto the bed. You shuffle up, curling in, not wanting him to see you cry but refusing to let go. He tries to adjust but you cling tighter in case he was going to get up. You just need someone to comfort you. And Yoongi does. His large hands stroke your back, your arms, anywhere he can reach in the strange position on the edge of the bed. It gives you something to focus on as you try to clear the chaos in your head.

“Um,” he says after a short moment. As your sobs become sniffles. “This is Jungkook’s room.”

You freeze. Opening your eyes, you recognize the black comforter. And there he is, eyes red from tears waiting to fall, watching you fall apart. His fists are balled at his sides, shuffling awkwardly in his socked feet.

“I’m s-sorry,” you hiccup. Jungkook just shakes his head quickly, moving to stand before you and Yoongi. He fiddles with his hands. His brows are furrowed as he seems to search for a way to join the pile on the bed. Jungkook never did well with tears. He always cried, too. You knew he wanted to comfort you as much as you need to be comforted.

Yoongi takes a deep breath. “Okay, you guys cannot be weird about this later, okay?”

“Okay,” you both say, nodding. Yoongi scoots back, and Jungkook immediately climbs on the bed, wrapping his arms around the both of you.

“Christ, when did you get so fucking big?” Yoongi asks as he tucks his head over yours. Jungkook gives a wet laugh, and you just tuck yourself smaller between the two.

This. This is where you want to be. Between these two, always. Safe, secure, people who know you and still love you, no matter the fucks ups.

 _But how long?_ That thought comes back. Everyone could leave you. Everyone could lie to you. Sure, they don’t know, but you can’t shake the feeling that you don’t know. You can’t truly know how someone feels until you find out. You’d always been confident in yourself and who you are. You’d always thought of the two as an extension of yourself. But now… you know it’s only you.

You squeeze your eyes tighter. You don’t want to think these things about your two favorite people. Especially as they hold you close. But it’s still there. _When? When will they leave?_

You don’t ever speak to Jeremy again after that day.

After walking into a class and seeing Jeremy sitting there, you drop out of college. Your mom is pissed. But you are so utterly distraught and upset that you can’t go to class. You don’t want to see him or Adriana on campus. And frankly, that’s impossible. A small town equals a small community college. A schedule that was matched with all your friends and your ex-boyfriend made it so much worse. She told you to push through, that this was your own fault.

You knew that.

And you feel guilty.

Not to him, but to yourself. You have practically nothing. You’d given so much time and effort to him, involved yourself so deeply, there was nothing else now. He was everywhere you turned. On campus, around town, and he occupied your free time. You tried to hang out with your friends, but that was done after one hour at a bar. They had known. They all had known. They took the _high road_ , saying it wasn’t their job to get involved.

So no friends. No boyfriend. No college.

And worst of all, now you didn’t know who you were without a partner. You prided yourself so much on being you. True to you. You realized what you thought wasn’t true wasn’t at all. Who were you now? Did you even want to be this person who could be tricked? Did you let yourself get tricked? Was this love? Just building things to break?

Never again. Never again will you let yourself get hurt like that.

So you said as much, as you always did.

“Never again,” you told Yoongi one day in his dorm room. Obviously, you moved back home. Jungkook is at home, but so are your parents. You needed your best friend now more than ever. He sits at his computer while you lay on his bed. In the weeks that followed your breakup, Yoongi never once pushed you out. He never seemed bothered to have you hanging around. Even his friends you met briefly welcomed you into hangouts. You roll over, staring at the back of his head framed by a thousand dashes and knobs on some computer music program. “I will never commit to someone like that.”

“Okay,” Yoongi said with a small nod.

“No, Yoongi, not _okay_ ,” you say. He always just agreed and went with it. You want him to know you are serious. “I know you don’t believe me. I’m not joking. It hurts. This hurts so much.”

Yoongi turns at that. His eyebrows pinch together, reaching for your hand as always. You take it, feeling the tension in your body immediately release. Connection and affection. Part of you feels so weak for how much it relaxes you. Fuck, had you always relied so much on others? You continue. “Fuck love. Fuck that. Every time I’m with someone, I lose myself. And then I lose time. It all fucking ends in the end.”

“That won’t always be true,” Yoongi starts. “Someday-”

“I don’t want to wait for someday,” you say, shaking your head. “I don’t trust someday. I don’t trust anyone. I don’t want to love.”

“But I love you,” Yoongi says softly after a moment. His lips are pursed in a slight pout, clearly irked by your words.

You squeeze his hand. “I love you, too. But that’s not what I mean.”

Yoongi glances up. He studies your face. You reach out to rub your knuckles between the furrow in his brow, and he curls his lip in irritation. “You sure? I wouldn’t put it past you to block us all out.”

“Hey, you aren’t my mom,” you try to tease, realizing how serious you’d made the situation. You kept doing that. Dipping into somewhere dark. It wasn’t like you. You didn’t like this. “I won’t shut you out.”

“Good,” Yoongi says. Feeling a bit uncomfortable at admitting his own feelings, he turns back to his work. “Go back to school.”

“You want me to leave?”

“No,” Yoongi sighs, his shoulders rising and falling as he watches the screen. “You need something to occupy your time. Dog-walking to appease mom enough to let you live at home isn’t enough. You liked school. Go back. Fuck that guy.”

You laugh. You take Yoongi’s pillow and place it over your head as your eyes start to water like an idiot. You don’t want to go back. You tried and you gave up, like always. Now school was just another wasted effort. “I wouldn’t even know what for. I didn’t want to go in the first place.”

“There’s nothing you want to do?”

The question hurts. There is. What you wanted to do was be with someone. So much more than you ever realized. Maybe because you always had Yoongi and Jungkook around. Now, without them, you realized how desperately you wanted to be loved. To touch. To connect. And how dangerous that was. How badly it could end to let that happen with anyone.

So you simply say, “No.”

~*~*~*~

Yoongi’s college buddies became your buddies. He invited you out, determined to keep you from wallowing even if you told him you were fine after a few weeks. Yoongi’s friends were easy to be around, just like him. It was a small group of some of his rec league friends. You had always made friends easily, so it wasn’t long before you were good friends with the rest of them, the token chick to hang around. Though you all frequently met to pregame before parties or other events, there were many nights where you all just hung out at Taito’s house. There weren’t many houses around the campus, but he’d managed to score an open room from a senior on the basketball team.

It was on one of these many nights hanging around that your mind reflects on so often. Not much happened that night, but so much was said. You were becoming more set in your ways. More determined not to love. And as someone else experienced heartbreak, you only felt reaffirmed.

“Damn, dude, it fuckin’ hurts,” Declan sighs. He leans back against the couch with a permanent pout. Yoongi squeezes his thigh reassuringly. The boy had just lost the girl he’d been dating for a month to someone else in the class they met in. 

“What you need, dude, is a good fuck,” Taito declares, raising his beer like a toast to the idea.

“I’m never going to date again,” you announce, taking another gulp of whatever mixture the boys had come up with. Now that one of your best friends had fucked your ex-boyfriend, you didn’t want to hang around any of them who hadn’t told you. You spent most of your weekends hanging around with Yoongi’s friends.

“That’s honestly the best way to be,” one of the other boys says with a nod. “Just fucks, you know? Dating, romance, it’s so complicated.”

“That one’s right,” you agree, holding your drink out to clink with his.

“Eventually, you are going to have to remember their names,” Yoongi says.

“Isn’t it Brad or Chad or something?” you tease, only for one of the boys to shove you. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry Greg. You’re right though.”

“I know I’m right,” he puffs out his chest and Yoongi rolls his eyes. “What’s love good for? Broken hearts.”

“Fuckbuddies, 100% my jam,” Taito says.

“How are you making being a fuckboy sound so convincing?” you laugh. Because he’s right. That’s what you’ve been thinking about. What the fuck is the point. All relationships end. “Why can’t we, just, you know, fuck friends and shit? Just have sex and stay friends? Taito?”

You tack on his name just to prove Yoongi wrong. Taito perks up at that, shifting a bit more towards you with interest.

“Yeah, why don’t you and Yoongi fuck?” Marvin says.

Yoongi blushes furiously, eyes darting to Declan. You just shake your head. Since he’s too busy gay-panicking, you answer for the both of you, “Nah, we have a strict friendzone pact.”

“You need a rebound,” Declan suggests. “Like, get under someone to get over someone, you know? That’s what I gotta do”

You hum, tilting your sugar mix back again. You don’t exactly want to rebound. It’s been long enough. And you don’t even want to consider the idea of replacing _him_. You just want sex still. That’s the one thing you’ve missed most in the last few weeks. Without realizing it, sex had been a kind of stress reliever from school, your family, everything. “I think this whole fuckbuddies thing sounds like a good idea.”

The boys are silent a second. Taito’s gaze turns a bit dark as he takes you in from your perch on one of the couches. Then, Declan says, “To fuckbuddies!”

“To fuckbuddies!” You all shout, then fall into a fit of laughter. The conversation carries on after that, trying to distract Declan from his sorry heart. As more and more people show up for the night-- Taito’s house typically turning into a beer-sogged frat house every weekend-- you and Yoongi make your way out.

“They wanna fuck you,” Yoongi says as you to the bus stop. He bounces a ball absently as you walk down the street.

“Who doesn’t want to fuck me?” You laugh, watching the stars disappear in the light pollution as you get closer to the small town strip near the campus bus stop.

“No, like, that fuckbuddies thing wasn’t a joke to them I don’t think,” Yoongi says. “They may have sounded like it, but they don’t mean it. They want to fuck you.”

You stop. It had been a while since you recognized or even remembered yourself as someone who everyone was interested in at one point. “Really?”

Yoongi turns to look at you up and down, then tosses you the ball. Not quite as coordinated, you barely catch the thing and glare over at him as he keeps on walking. “They keep talking about my hot as fuck best friend. Honestly, it’s uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” you breathe, feeling butterflies build in your stomach. After everything that happened, it’s kind of nice to hear so directly that you are desired. Wanted. That, in a way, you still got it. “But like, just fuck?”

Yoongi sighs, taking one last drink of his beer before he tosses it in someone’s trashcan. “I mean, for now.”

“For now?” You ask.

“I don’t think anyone can really _just fuck_ , you know?” Yoongi says. “They say that, but I mean, if you get to know someone, aren't you inherently going to, I don’t know, feel attached? It could get messy.”

“Everything is fucking messy,” you say. Love or not. At least, this way, there will be less to mess with. If you confront them with your true intentions, it should be fine, right? They seemed down back there. You toss the ball into the air as you catch up to Yoongi. “Well, is it cool if I ask them about it?”

Yoongi plays with it for a second, closely analyzing the lines cutting into the ball. “Who?”

“I don’t know, Chad, Brad, Thad,” you say. “Any of them. All of them?”

Yoongi squints at you.

“What?” you argue, staring at the stars again. “I’m done with love. A good fuck would be good. The more the merrier.”

“You catch feelings faster than Jungkook catches these hands,” Yoongi jokes. “You are putting too many sticks in the fire.”

“I’m done with love,” you pout. It’s true. “It sucks.”

“Come on,” Yoongi sighs. “You know you don’t mean that.”

“Have you known me to go back on anything?” you ask. You’re sure. It hurts. You are so tired of hurting. You’re so tired of being the one left alone, of watching things fade out of your control. Of trying, of loving, only to pick up the pieces later. You glance over at Yoongi when he stops bouncing the ball but immediately look away. His eyes are mixed with something closer to pity than concern. You don’t want it. “Isn’t this what basketball players do? Rebound? And if they want it...”

“Don’t ever make that joke again,” Yoongi says. “I’m just saying that sounds like a bad idea.”

“But if they just want to fuck, what’s the big deal?”

Yoongi takes a deep breath. “Okay, fine. Your life.”

“Really?” You ask. Your heart skips a beat, but you want to be sure. “They are your friends though, so if you _really_ don’t want me to…”

“Just…” Yoongi’s quiet. He starts bouncing the ball again.

“Just what?” You press.

“Just…. Not Declan,” Yoongi mutters in such a quiet voice that the bugs almost drown out the clause.

“What? What? Why not him? He’s cute!”

“I know he’s cute,” Yoongi grumbles.

You pause your pestering. Oh. In your excitement over getting laid, you hadn’t paid attention. Yoongi’s being shy. You think back to how every time you’re all together, Yoongi’s next to Declan. He’s sitting next to him, touching him, encouraging him. He hadn’t seemed all that upset about the breakup between Declan and the girl, either. “You like him?”

“He’s straight,” Yoongi says as a way of response.

You roll your eyes, taking the ball from him. Yoongi makes a noise of protest, reaching for the ball, but you just hold it close. “But you like him?”

“Fuck, I do, okay?” Yoongi crosses his arms defensively, but his face scrunches up. “He’s straight and you’re hot, so don’t fuck him.”

“Of course not,” you rush immediately. Never, never would you hurt Yoongi like that. You take Yoongi’s hand for good measure and squeeze. “I’d never do that to you.”

Yoongi stares at you then at your hands. “I don’t think you’d do it on purpose…”

“What?” you ask, confused by his words.

Yoongi shakes his head. “Nothing, just, be careful, okay?”

“I’ll always use a rubber, sir!” You joke.

Yoongi opens his mouth to speak, but the bus rolls up. “Jungkook’s right, you’re gross.”

~*~*~*~

It is so much easier than you expected. After the next time you all hung out, hopped up on liquid courage, you pulled Taito aside.

“So, would you actually wanna fuck?” You’d asked, leaning against the wall in the hall while he leaned against the other.

“Uh, what?” he had asked, eyes wide. “You for real?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, feeling your cheeks heat a bit. Fuck, it had been a while since you’d done this. “I mean, I think you feel the same way. Fuckbuddies, you know? I just want no strings attached sex.”

Taito made a disbelieving laugh. “Holy shit, I didn’t know girls like you actually existed.”

You laughed, too. “Actually, I think a lot of girls would be down, it’s just… frowned upon. But since you brought up the idea… I thought maybe you’d be down?”

Taito threw back the rest of his drink. “Hell yeah. Definitely.”

He moved forward, but you held your hand out. You suddenly felt nervous again. Plus, you are drunk. Not the best time to fuck. “Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow? Sound good?”

Taito looked down at you. His eyes were blown wide with lust. And you felt so, so wanted. It stirred your stomach with something other than worry for once.

“Definitely,” he had said.

But it was a different story when you found yourself at Taito’s the next day after your dog-walking.

"So..." you begin, but you aren’t quite sure where to go from there. The bed sinks as Taito moves a bit closer. You’d never been in his room. It’s typical of a boy and reminds you a lot of Jungkook’s bedroom. You shake your head. That’s not what you should be thinking about right now.

"Yeah," he says quietly. He rubs the back of his neck. "It's, uh, this is weird sober. You know?"

You don't know. You've never drunkenly hooked up with someone. But you guess he means the nerves. Everything feels... present. Awkward.

"So we are good? Just a fuck?" You double-check.

He nods his head quickly turning to face you. "Yeah, totally, this is the best fucking deal."

"Okay then," you take a deep breath. You got this, you know what to do. And above all, you know what you want. Tentatively, you place your hand on the other side of him, nose brushing against his. "Then get on your back."

"Oh, uh, what?" He asks, still sliding down to his elbows and moving up the bed. You quickly straddle him, now spurred on by the opportunity of sex. Release. Touch. You pull your shirt over your head and Taito gawks. "Holy shit."

"Get your dick out and let's fuck," you command.

Taito beams up at you with a wicked smile. ”Yes, ma’am.”

~*~*~*~

Marvin approaches you next. You don't think much of it when he says, "Hey, you want to fuck?"

Because you ask. You check. "Just a fuck, right? Then we can meet up with the guys after?"

"Totally," he says.

This time, you see what Taito means. You've only had a few beers, but there's no hesitance. Marvin has you pinned to the wall of his dorm room in seconds. You are moaning into his mouth, reaching for his belt, falling to your knees. He groans above you, whispered swears under his breath, you thrill at the pleasure you give him.

After, you head out to your friends. Easy-peasy.

~*~*~*~

"Yoongi's gonna go to real college," Marvin teases.

"Really?" You say, surprised you don't know already.

"Yeah, our little anarchist wants a real degree," he teases again. “At a big fancy university.”

Yoongi grumbles and fidgets with his beer. "I already explained this."

"You'll get caught in the system," Marvin goads, his arm falling over your shoulder as he leans into you and Yoongi. You take his hand easily, not noticing how Taito eyes you.

"Fuck that, I'm not some stuck up elite," Yoongi quips.

"Of course not," you tease. You look at your watch. "God, it's getting late," and then, turning to the side slightly, you whisper in Taito’s ear, "wanna fuck?"

He nods immediately, a smile spreading across his face as he looks behind you at Marvin.

“Hey,” Marvin asks as you pass by. He grabs your wrist when you don’t realize he’s talking to you. His thumb rubs the inside. “Thought it was my turn?”

“Turn?” You ask. “Did we set up a system?”

Marvin pauses, eyebrows raising. “Nah, but that might be a good idea?”

You smack his shoulder. “This ain’t no brothel.”

“Dude,” Sam says, “don’t talk about her like that.”

“Says you,” Marvin says. “Aren’t you the one who-”

“Guys,” Declan says, standing up. “I’m getting more drinks, who wants one?”

Declan smiles at you with a wink. You smile back, glad for his diversion so you don’t have to play eenie meenie minie moe. Yoongi follows Declan into the kitchen, and you follow Taito out.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Yo," Sam calls one night when you are leaving a party. "You exclusive?"

"What?" You ask, turning from where you fight the cold.

"With Marvin?" he asks.

You laugh lightly. He'd been all over you tonight and totally bummed when you ditched to go home and game with Jungkook. "No way."

"Really?" Sam looks over his shoulder. "Looked like it."

"We're just friends," you say. You see Yoongi roll his eyes. So you say more to Yoongi than him, “He’s just really touchy.”

"Well," Sam says with a playful wink. "Can I be your friend?"

“Dude,” Yoongi groans, walking farther ahead.

“Love you, dude!” Sam calls back, eyes focused on you.

You cock your head at him though. "We are friends., I've slept on your couch."

"No I mean like," he slips his hand into your back pocket. You gasp then giggle. Yoongi groans louder from up ahead.

"Definitely," you turn to sling your arms around your new entertainment. "But I’m gaming with Kook. Or trying."

"Cute," Sam leans in for a kiss, but you back away. All these guys and their kissing. You don’t get it and personally, you don’t really like it. What’s the point? Kissing is so… intimate.

"So another time?" You ask. You see Taito and Marvin in the back watching, so you wave. They don’t wave back. Must be tired.

"Another time," Sam says. "Text me."

You take your phone out and type tomorrow?

He smiles. "Fuck, you are so chill."

~*~*~*~

“Hey,” you nudge Yoongi one day on his dorm room bed. You both watch the computer propped on his desk. He grunts in response, clearly immersed in the documentary unlike you.

“Hey,” you say again, flopping into his lap. He squawks, almost rolling you off the bed before he catches himself.

“What?” Yoongi groans.

“I just,” your cheeks heat a bit. “I just want to make sure you are still okay with me fucking your friends?”

Yoongi sighs as he pauses the show. “Look, yeah, it’s fine.”

“But?” you ask, knowing he’s only so curt when he’s about to launch into a monologue.

“Not a but,” he snorts. “I’m glad to see you happy. I’m glad to see my friends happy. It’s just weird to hear my sister talk up my friends right in front of me.”

You crinkle your nose. “I’m not actually your sister.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know you refuse to acknowledge it,” Yoongi waves off. “All that chosen family bullshit.”

You shrug, “it’s not my fault that my mom copied me and stole my family.”

Yoongi sniffs at that, not wanting to breach the topic of your parents. You still weren’t getting along, and you were around the boys more and more to stay away from her.

“You’re still being careful, right?”

You nod. “Safe sex is great sex, Yoongles.”

He fakes a retching sound, or it might have been real. “I mean, you sure everything is good between you guys? It’s just… you came up the other night.”

“Oh? Was it my bomb sex game?”

Yoongi fakes a wretch… or maybe it is real. “Thanks after I _just_ asked you not to do that. And actually, yes. I am mortified. But it’s just... Some people seem jealous.”

“What?” You are a bit confused. You didn’t see that. No one had said that. Maybe Yoongi was just being nervous. He was always an overthinker. And always watching out for you. His little worried brain was doing overtime trying to worry about you _and_ his friends.

“Okay,” you nod. You try to mock seriousness. “As weird as it is, I will check in with all of my hook-ups to make sure they are just getting dicked down and that’s it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yoongi says with an eye roll. Then, seemingly done with the conversation, he just picks up the remote and turns the show back on. “It’s all good, now shut up and listen to the Chernobyl diaries.”

~*~*~*~

"Wanna stay?" Taito asks one night.

"What?" You retort, grabbing your things. His room is somehow the cleanest, yet you can never find your things. He had taken to chucking your clothes each time you came up like he couldn’t manage to get enough of you.

"Like, stay the night?" He asks, propping up on his elbows as he watches you dress.

"Why?"

"Well," he shrugs. "I don’t know, to cuddle or something?"

You laugh. "Uh, no thanks."

"For real?"

You turn around, eyeing him on the bed. "Yeah?"

"I just thought..." he drops back to the bed and turns away.

"What?" You ask. Leaning over him, you nip his ear. "Wanted me to fuck you again in an hour?"

His eyes meet yours. Something in you pulls back. But he blinks. "Haha, nah, just go."

You remember Yoongi’s words from before. “We’re… good right? Good friends and nice sex, right? Because I’m really enjoying this.”

Taito smiles at that, shaking his head. “Oh, dude, yeah, totally. That’s what I wanted, right? Fuckbuddies.”

You smile wide at that, kissing his cheek. "Cool, see you!"

~*~*~*~

There was one person you hadn’t checked with, and that might have been when it all came crashing down.

At least, at the moment, that’s what you thought. Now you know it’s just a culmination of your actions, that stupid blind trust you still kept.

Declan stands opposite you in your parents’ living room. You feel a little proud of your best friend. After hanging out in the park, he’d offered for everyone to come over. But what stood out to you was that he had pulled Declan aside to say he could stay the night instead of driving home. You smiled at his courage, actually acting on his decision than just standing passively and watching like always.

Once you all got back here from the park, the boys had gone to get pizza. Declan opted to stay back, making a call to his roommates to let them know he wasn’t dead.

“So,” you sigh, shaking out of your jacket. “I hope you guys have a good night.”

“Huh?” Declan seems surprised. “You aren’t staying?”

“Ah, no,” you smile shyly. You don’t want to intrude, even if nothing happens. And honestly, Sam had fucked your brains out yesterday, and your thighs needed a break. “I’m going to go bother Jungkook.”

“I mean,” he steps forward. And as he steps, you feel like the room tilts. There’s something you can sense, an intention in the quiet way he approaches you, caging you into the wall behind you. Not directly, not that you have no escape, but making his presence known. “I was thinking you could bother me.”

Your heart drops at that. “What?”

“Come on,” Declan says, seeming almost shy. Oh no. He reaches for your hand, tracing his fingers up the back of your arm. “You’ve gone for everyone except me. Saving the best for last or something?”

It’s cocky, but it lacks bite. Shy. Nervous. Oh no. No. This isn’t what you wanted to happen. You’d felt safe around Declan because _you_ knew he was off-limits. But he’s gotten the wrong idea. When he starts to lean in, you snap into action. You duck, sliding away from the wall.

“Declan,” you start, mind racing. What do you say? What’s your excuse? “Um, no.”

“No?” His cheeks are on fire. Oh no, no no. “Why not me?”

“I-“ you double back, pressing your lips together. You can’t even think of an excuse.

And luckily, you don’t need one. The car sounds in the driveway. Your eyes dart to the driveway, relief and fear buzzing through you as he steps forward again.

“What’s the deal?” His cheeks flush dark red. “You fucked everyone else. Is there.. something wrong with me?”

The nerves in his voice send a pang through your heart. You reach out, rubbing his arms comfortingly. “Hey, no, that’s not—”

The door clicks and you are greeted by Sam’s _ohhs_. You spin, terrified, and see Yoongi front and center, watching you hold a blushing-red Declan.

“No,” you whimper. “It’s not that.”

You speak to Yoongi, but every face seems to take it as meant for them. You see them focused on you, on your grip on Declan, but you are watching Yoongi. The way his lips part in shock, the pinch of his expression, the way he tosses the keys to the floor.

“Wow, why am I not surprised?” Marvin tsks. “She’s gotta make it through the whole team, right? Guess this is the last one.”

Yoongi snaps out of his shock to wheel on Marvin. “Dude.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Taito suddenly steps forward between the crowd. He glances down at you, and you stare back with a silent plea for help. Tease you, make a light-hearted comment, drag you upstairs to fuck you to get you out of this situation.

Instead, he does the unexpected. Unexpected because once again, you’d trusted a guy to be honest with you. Something sparks in his expression at your forlorn look, and he wraps an arm around your waist. “Game’s over guys. She’s with me.”

Your jaw drops. You shove away. “What?”

“I mean,’ Taito pulls you back in, but you try to pry him off. “She’s with me the most. Y’all see how she’s been choosing me.”

“What the hell?” You finally wrench away, now ducking behind the man you’d just rejected. “I literally just asked if you were still good being fuckbuddies?”

“Yeah, you’re just the sorry piece of shit getting your dick wet,” Marvin scoffs. Taito jumps for him, a fistful of his shirt in his hand.

“Stop!” you cry out. “I’m not with either of you!”

The boys pause and turn to you. Sam raises an eyebrow in the doorway, clearly also surprised.

“What?” they ask in unison.

“I said,” you take a deep breath. “I’m not with any of you! You are the ones who said friends with benefits! I asked if you were cool with that!”

“I thought you just, you know,” Marvin rubs his neck, and the other jumps in.

“All girls fucking say that,” Taito says.

“And?” you ask.

“You guys don’t fucking mean it,” Sam chimes in

“Well, I _did_ ,” you spit at them. “Clearly, you guys didn’t.”

“Because we didn’t think you were actually a slut,” Taito sneers. Apparently, he has nothing nice to say now that you rejected him. Rejected? Could you even call it that?

“Stop it,” Yoongi suddenly demands. It’s low in his chest, his fists balled as he stares at the group of men around you.

“Shut the fuck up, Yoongi,” Marvin says. “You’d be balls deep if you weren’t her brother.”

Your jaw drops. Declan suddenly speaks up again “That’s enough. Look, I’m sorry I even suggested anything. I clearly see you have your hands full already with all these asshats.”

“Yeah, look at you crawling over for sloppy, what? Fifths? And she--” Marvin doesn’t get a chance to finish as Sam clocks him square in the jaw. Yoongi steps in, trying to hold Sam back, but he gets hit in the face by Marvin’s attack. 

You screech, reaching for your brother and doubling back as Marvin reaches for you. “What the fuck? What the fuck are you guys doing?”

“What the fuck are _you_ doing?” Taito shouts. “The fuck is wrong with us? Just a greedy bitch?”

Your senses flare at that, staring at Yoongi dabbing his lip. “You only fucking like me because you are getting what you want. You don’t actually want to date me, you shithead.”

Taito blazes at that, stalking towards you, but Declan takes him out in the middle before he can reach you. He’d always had the worst temper on the court, and seeing him stalk towards you made you scared. So scared of the guy you’d fucked only two days ago. Dammit, you’d fucked almost everyone in this room at least once this week.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Taito shouts, throwing Declan off him. They flip over the couch.

“Stop acting like fucking idiots!” You scream.

“What? Isn’t that what you thought we were?” Sam laughs while he fights off Marvin. They are all fighting now, just brawling, while Yoongi’s leaned against the stairwell that Jungkook now pummels down. He cowers back at the sight of 4 grown men fighting in your living room. “Could just fuck us all?”

“You said it was fine!” You scream, feeling like an idiot. For why, you aren’t sure. Sam throws Declan into Marvin who knocks his head into Taito.

“Get out!” Yoongi shouts. He grabs one by the arm, Declan a bit more gently. “Out! Get the fuck out!”

Jungkook finally reacts, using all his height and muscle for good use to open the door and drag the brawling men outside…

Just as your parents arrive.

What? They aren’t even supposed to be here today. What the fuck is happening?

Yoongi swears under his breath. Jungkook just whimpers, hugging the banister as your mother’s shrieking comes from the driveway. His wide, scared eyes turn to you. “What did you do?”

It stabs through your heart. You hadn’t even realized when you started crying. Yoongi turns around at that, blood dripping from his lip down his chin.

Oh god, what _did_ you do?

Your mother asks just as much. Your full name is shouted over the brawling mean in the yard before she comes in the house. “What on earth have you done this time?”

That’s it. You can’t handle it anymore. What the hell. Your best friend leaving you in a bind when Declan approached you. Trapped in this house under your mother’s constant rejection. Going nowhere and fast. You wanted to get out of here.

Your mother isn’t done, her complaints only fueling your mix of emotions bouncing between fear, sadness, and rage. “What have you done? What are the neighbors going to think? Why is Yoongi bleeding? What the hell happened to our living room? Do you have any idea I have to make excuses for you and… your mess?”

“Oh, fuck, _off!_ ” You shout. You shove past Jungkook to storm up the stairs. You can’t take it anymore. Everyone in this house, everyone you know has their shit together except you. You can’t even fuck without breaking something. Can’t even do the right thing without a crowd of men beating the shit out of each other. “You think you’re all perfect? It’s just that I’m the only one who isn’t helping keep up your little _facade_.”

You wheel on everyone, stomping back down the stairs. Anything, everything, all your anger is trying to direct somewhere, and this is it. “You act like Yoongi’s dad _saved_ Jungkook.”

“He’s your fath-” your mother starts, but you groan, pulling at your hair. She stands aghast at your actions.

“He is _not_ my dad! Yoongi is _not_ my brother!” you shout. “You just don’t want to admit that we aren’t a cookie-cutter family because dad _left_ you!”

Your mother’s lips form a firm line, the rage boiling. “I need you to go to your room and calm down, right now.”

“Why?” you ask. Your mind races for any ammo you can find against her. “What difference will that make? We can’t all just shut up. Christ, look what happens when we do? I’m going fucking crazy. It’s only a short amount of time before everyone else does. That’s what happens when you turn us into your perfect robots. We’ve all gotta be fucking perfect!I mean, I still can’t manage to handle it here being who I want to be. What do you think it’s like for everyone else? Yoongi can’t even tell you he’s bi for fuck’s sake!”

The air in your lungs freezes. Your body, along with the room stands still. Yoongi’s frozen where he touches his lip. His hand drops, turning to look at you. His eyes are blank, devoid of anything but exhaustion.

“Get out.”

Your mind blanks. You barely register his voice. As though he knows, Yoongi repeats, “Get the fuck out.”

Your lungs tighten on nothing. You can’t even breathe in as you try to rewind what you just did. Broke his trust. Spilled his secrets. Everything you’d feared to be done to you. You just shattered it for him.

“Y-Yoongi,” you take a step down and it creaks. Your mother’s eyes close and a tear rolls down her face. Yoongi’s father stands behind her, not looking at anyone. Jungkook stops looking out the window, blinds of the window swinging, and the lights from the cars outside the only thing cutting the scene.

It’s your mother who answers. “I think Yoongi is right. You should leave.”

You don’t know what to do. So for once, you listen to your mother. Without much thought, you step back down the stairs. Past your mother, past your best friend who blatantly avoids your gaze. Past Jungkook who almost reaches for you before thinking better. Past the boys panting on your front lawn and the cars that have stopped to shout at them.

Past all the fucking shit that _you_ caused.

You hadn’t even been with someone, yet you’d still gotten hurt. Even worse, you’d hurt everyone around you. Yoongi. The person you cared about most. You’d tried to distance yourself and somehow tangled everyone else in the end.

How, if you could not have love nor friends, were you supposed to function?

You shake your head. That’s not right. This is just fucked up. You are fucked up. You’d thought it was about when would people leave you, but really, it’s about when would you leave them? Leave them in pain or leave them to ask you to get out. 

Fine, you’ll leave them. You’ll fucking get out and not hurt them or yourself. Wasted fucking effort, you know it now. Any love, any connection, is fucking worthless. It all ends in pain. You get hurt or hurt others. 

That night, you stay on Yoongi’s campus with another friend. In the morning, you sneak back home to get somethings, then take the bus as far as you can afford. On the way, you check your phone for listings in the area.

Somehow, someone out there was on your side whether to torture you or get you out of that small town, because you actually found someone that fit your needs, albeit loosely.

_Room for rent!_

_Employed and mature looking for a roommate. My best friend informally lives here, but he’s great and won’t take up your space. I frequently have guests in and out of the house. Not that clean but you can pick up my stuff for me and I don’t care? Not looking for bullshit, let’s be real with each other._

Good enough. You move in the next week. You only take 2 bags with you from your parents, not speaking to them the entire time. Yoongi hasn’t come home. They blame you for that, too.

Jimin, your new roommate, was… interesting. He’d been honest in his bio, but in real life, he was honest, too. Every time a “guest” left, he’d find you to have drinks and talk about it. Unlike you, Jimin just liked to play. Adored by all, or as Taehyung said, “JIminie needs more attention than one person can handle.” Taehyung had been Jimin’s best friend who practically lived with you two. He’d found you the job with Hoseok. You took it immediately, thinking it fitting to get a job at a sex store. 

On top of Jimin’s regular chats about his own sex-positive lifestyle, Hoseok’s openness about his sexcapades encouraged you to reevaluate your own. Hoseok was just as much like Jimin, wanting to divulge all your conquests and encouraging you to try what you want.. Instead of hating on yourself, you accepted your conquests for what they were. You teased each other about what you got up to, though really, you only recited old stories. Hoseok enjoyed them nonetheless, quickly teasing you as a dom. He was the one who brought up maybe you just had never found someone who could give you what you want. You took charge to get what you wanted.

Despite how lost you felt those first few months, they’d helped you adjust. You found your sexual appetite normal. You were able to make these friends but keep them at arm’s length. Even though you were mostly surrounded by people who casually hooked up, you couldn’t convince yourself to do it. There was something scary about hooking up with a stranger. Especially after working at _The Pink Lady_ and seeing first-hand how many people lied about _anything_. No, despite Jimin and Hoseok’s encouragement, you’d go out with them but always come home alone. You missed fucking friends. There was a sense of security there, of already both knowing each other. And you sure as hell weren’t going to date and add emotional drama.

That’s around when Jungkook showed up.

The only one of your family members who kept in touch all that time had been Jungkook. In the first few months, you’d refused to answer any of his texts. But then, you had to. You couldn’t keep punishing yourself because you are weak, so you let him in. What a mistake. 

Just like Yoongi, he had a dream that he grasped. His professional video gaming took off at a shocking speed. He was making thousands each month just hanging in his room, so he moved out.

You were shocked when Jungkook visited and Taehyung and Jimin immediately accepted him. It took you by surprise that your shy younger friend managed to ensnare two outgoing people. You were even more shocked when he asked to room together.

“What’s family for?” Jungkook had said.

“We aren’t family,” you said. “And I don’t want to be. Friends are better.”

That’s when you found what you were missing. And the mistake began again. Jungkook’s friends. And slowly, almost easily, you drifted into the same cycle. The way you repeated the same process almost scared you. The same song and dance. One of the girls was so cute. She told you she just needed to blow some steam. You, too. You knew it would work, because personality-wise, you didn’t match. Something safe, then, you thought. It could just stay sex. 

And then one drunken night, you hooked up with one of the guys in his group. A guy who apparently had been lusting over you since he saw you on Jungkook’s Instagram month’s before. He hadn’t been honest in order to get with you. And you always went so willingly.

And again, things fell apart. The girl, unbeknownst to you, had grown attached. She wanted to win you over. You remembered how this went. Jungkook not only lost his friends but income. He lost his team.

“This is exactly what you did to Yoongi,” he shouted at you in your kitchen.

Your entire body bristled. It was the first time he mentioned Yoongi, who still hadn’t messaged you once since everything happened.“It’s what I _did_?”

Jungkook falters, the anger in his expression fading to embarrassment. “I… I didn’t mean it like that.”

But he was right. You did it. You’re doing it again.

This time, you swore it all off. It was you. Clearly you. You’re the common denominator. A toxic factor that ruins everyone around you. You attract toxicity. You broke everything around you, hurt yourself and others the most when you tried to get what you wanted. So you said no more. Just friends as friends, just focusing on you, not even hookups now. Jimin got you a steady, boring part-time job at his law firm. Hoseok and Taehyung played out the constant reminder that love was messy and not for you. 

Jungkook stayed, your one pillar left to cling to stability. If anything, you grew this time by apologizing profusely to him, both crying it out the entire night as you patched up holes from the last few years. And that night, you looked up Yoongi for the first time since that night. He had never unfriended you or much less blocked you from anything. 

As Jungkook had told you about his music, you listened to his songs. You scrolled through a brief profile, a warm smile overtaking your teary expression as you read about your old best friend’s growing success. Even in the panic and self-loathing, you still found his music calming. The humming from your younger years, Yoongi making up sounds and tunes as you walked along the sidewalk, turned into soft or aggressive beats that were shared with thousands. You had cradled your phone to your chest, clinging to your best friend.

This was enough. This could get you through it for now. You’d become a better person, if not to show him. Because you knew you couldn’t convince yourself. Not after everything that you’d done. But maybe you could show him someday you are changing.

That idea always came in and out of the back of your mind whenever things got tough. But like always, you messed up. You’d forgotten your goal as things became okay, as you got wrapped up in another connection. As soon as you lost focus, you got lost in general.

And now you’re here, trying not to have a breakdown in a motel of your hometown where you dragged in some guy you were apparently just fucking. Some guy who you’d spent every day thinking about. Who knew your worries and hopes. Who you had run to when things were bad instead of anyone else in your life. Who had somehow become so much more than an amazing, interesting fuck.

Who was once again at the center of something that would tear apart the people close to you. You fucked up. Toxic. You fuck up. You’ll always fuck up.

* * *

Something smells fucked up. You crinkle your nose, realizing you aren’t in the memory you’re seeing. The bitter scent of coffee fills your nose.

“Hey,” Namjoon’s soft voice, that low yet vibrant call, sounds next to you. You jump, almost tumbling the coffee held under your nose. You stare at him. He’s kneeling next to you, calmly, eyes tinted with something. Pity? He’s holding the coffee just out of reach, apparently using the scent to bring you out of whatever panicked trance you’d fallen into “Can I sit here?”

“You probably shouldn’t come near me,” you laugh sourly. You grip the coffee in front of you, enjoying the way it sears the palms of your hand. “Don’t want to drag you into this season’s fuck up.”

Namjoon rises and stands there a second longer before easing into the seat across from you.

“I didn’t say yes,” you tack on.

“Free country,” Namjoon says back, crossing his legs.

“Why are you here?” You ask, rubbing at your eyes. God, why were you both here?

“I said I needed a minute,” Namjoon explains. You glance up to see him poised across the small cafe table, but he’s nervous. His eyes flicker behind his glasses, seeming to dash from your own weary expression.

“You meant a literal minute?” You ask, feeling like you may need way more than a minute at this point. Namjoon’s brow pinches in confusion at that. 

“Well, it’s been more than a minute,” Namjoon takes note of, pointing to the clock on the wall. Shit, it’s been way more than a minute. Have you been freaking out here for almost half an hour? You glare at the clock like somehow its passage of time was of its own making. A heavy sigh brings your attention back to Namjoon. “I think we need to talk.”

You close your eyes, welcoming the darkness that isn’t riddled with memories, and take a deep breath. Were you really about to open up even further to this man?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dundundun.... now we know the backstory.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit hits the fan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someday I will go through and correct all of my misuses of your/'re. That day is not today. I promise this is the last round of panic attacks.
> 
> **During the dance scene, I played Too Sad To Cry by Sasha Sloan on repeat, tho the lyrics don't fit that well.

The hotel cafe feels stifling. Funny, as you glance around, it is a pretty open space. Even the chair you sit in has handles wide enough to curl up. Trying to relax your shoulders, your tension transfers to the grip on the coffee Namjoon set before you like it may hold you to the table. You are still torn between fleeing and sinking into the chair. Namjoon’s troubled expression has you choosing to sink.

“You said you want to talk,” you remind him after a few minutes. His eyebrows lift as though stilted from thought. Knowing him, he probably was. You knew his tendency to drift off either aloud or in his mind. Really, you knew so much about him. You expected him to reach behind his head, rubbing his neck as he tries to piece together the thoughts in his mind. You know he’d place them next on his knees, rubbing gently like kindling his mind into action.

Christ, you were already so deep.

“Actually, I said _we_ need to talk,” Namjoon reminds you. You simply stare as a way of giving him the floor. He sighs, shaking his head. “That was unexpected back there.”

You nod stiffly. “Understatement.”

“I know,” Namjoon says. “So Yoongi, he’s your step-brother?”

“Yep.”

“So that means your…” Namjoon glances to the side, taking his own coffee now. Your heart jilts at that-- the way he trailed off. You move to inquire about what hellish things he may know, but Namjoon continues. “This is going to get uncomfortable.”

You drop back in your seat with a disheartened laugh. “And it’s not already?”

Namjoon laughs. “Good point.”

There’s another unsettling silence. You don’t want it. Namjoon may like his time to think, but it’s the last thing you want to do now.

Despite your resistance to deal with this, you want to get it over with. “How do you know Yoongi? And even Jungkook? What was that about?”

Namjoon clears his throat. His cheeks tint with a nervous blush, something new. In any other circumstances, you’d revel in the chance to push his buttons and see where that nervousness would go, but now, you wish you could withdraw the question.

“Yoongi and I were classmates. He transferred in during my sophomore year,” Namjoon says. Ah, right after you left, you remember. He’d been planning to go to a _real_ college. Or at least, you had all joked that. You and... You take a sip of coffee and let the bitterness clear your mind. “He seems like a real asshole on the first take, you know?”

You can’t help but smile a bit at that. Yoongi was just reserved.

“Anyway, we didn’t agree on anything. I was kind of, well, great at what I did. But I wasn’t a production major like Yoongi. It was a side thing-” of course it was, you think, one of Namjoon’s many perfected hobbies “- and we fought a lot about that. We kept ending up in the same classes. Our arguments kind of became a… well, a thing. A love-hate relationship. Because even though we fought, we both grew a lot from each other. I was set in the ways of our programs, but Yoongi was set in his own ways, too. It wasn’t a surprise that eventually we ended up on a project together. If anything, I think that professor did it to show us how great we could be together.”

Nerves stirred in your stomach at his wording. Together. Namjoon also seems to sense it. His hands, spinning the story and flapping this way and that as he expressed both sides, still as they wrap around his coffee to mirror your same position. He takes the lid off, staring intently at the liquid inside. Maybe he’s hoping like you that it may suddenly provide the words you need or the power to get you through this.

“It did the trick. Yoongi and I made a good song. A great fucking song. We even went a step further to publish it. But it took us a while to get there. We argued about the theme, the beats, the progression. There were days where we wouldn’t even work in the studio at the same time. I still remember how that pensive face of his seemed so stupidly aggravating.” Namjoon smiles fondly as he squints and purses his lips like Yoongi.

You know the feeling. Yoongi’s blank stare as you say something ridiculous. You can only imagine how that would rile Namjoon who can’t stand the lack of reception, always practically desperate for interactive conversation.

Speaking of, Namjoon’s silent again. His eyes dart to yours, around the room, and back to the coffee. He fiddles with the lid absently, mouth opening every few seconds. It’s coming. Whatever caused that reaction is next.

“It was shortly before we finished the song. We were both at the studio late. Jungkook had even come around. He hung around Yoongi a lot. Cute kid. Jungkook honestly may have been what finally broke Yoongi’s shell. That kid’s got him wrapped around his finger, and Jungkook liked me. I’m actually really excited to see him again…”

Namjoon trails off, rolling his lips when he realizes he’s digressing. Your coffee cup suddenly pops with a dent from how tight you squeeze and the sound startles you both.

“But he had left. Yoongi and I got really fired up about something. I can’t even remember. It may have been the song itself. Maybe something stupid about a collab name, I don’t know. But somehow. It ended with us…”

Namjoon stops with a nervous laugh. He stares past you, as though not sure where else to look. Your mind follows the trail, then a heavy sinking feeling overtakes your heart, dragging your shoulders and your head low.

“You didn’t,” you whisper.

Namjoon’s sigh sounds heavy as he murmurs, “It was one time.” 

One time. Yoongi never did one time. Or does he now? You stir your coffee with your finger, letting the heat burn your skin and watching how the deep color makes it impossible to see where the liquid goes or how it is moving. Much like Yoongi. Always reserved and keeping things to himself. And now he’s keeping himself from you, these things you are learning through someone else.

“That was it,” Namjoon finally picks up, voice still low. “We finished the project that week. It did really well. It was the end of senior year. We never… saw each other again. I didn’t hold anything bad towards him. If anything, I think our relationship improved after getting it out of the way. We both learned a lot from each other. That night, we talked about a lot of things, too. Home, futures, dreams. It was like a surreal blip in our relationship. But he… that reaction… maybe he holds something against me now.”

Regret, your mind answers. You do know at least old Yoongi. Whether you want to think you don’t now, you know that isn’t him. He never hooks up with people. All you’ve ever seen is him pining. And for him to react that way, he regretted it.

But he also is a distant kind of lover by default. He’d probably had feelings of some sort. Finally with someone who would act on it. You know Namjoon, now, too. He would have pulled it out of Yoongi to the surface. Unlike Declan.

Declan, the last boy you know Yoongi liked and took from him. And here you were, bringing another man you’ve taken from him to his wedding.

“That’s not why he’s mad,” your voice trembles so much more than you expected. You blink, realizing tears cling to the corner of your eyes. You take a deep breath to hold it back. “It’s me. He’s mad… at me.”

“I’m sorry if this is really awkward,” Namjoon grumbles. You laugh, but it’s choked on the lump in your throat.

“Awkward,” you cough out. It’s so much more. The bitter taste of coffee dries out your mouth and the scent of a hundred cheap colognes on business men suddenly makes you nauseous. The fact that something in you says to look at Namjoon, to tell him, to explain why this is so much more, makes you even more woozy. You push the coffee cup away.

“Is it not?” Namjoon asks. He leans closer, those tight eyes swimming with concern again. Stop, you want to say. Stop looking at me like that. The same way Yoongi always looked at you. Now he is. The man Yoongi liked at one point. After everything, you broke him again. You broke. You are going to break. 

“Actually,” Namjoon starts, “when I realized who he was and who you were. I remembered something he had said. Are-”

“Hey,” Jungkook’s voice echoes in the small lobby. You snap up, quickly wiping your eyes as he slows his jog by your table. He immediately zones in on your teary face, eyes darting to Namjoon with a jerk of his head. You shake your own, not wanting to get into it but letting him know you are okay. “So, I got some news.”

“I’m going home?” You ask, but it’s more of a statement. Your words tremble in your throat. Sensing your growing distress, Namjoon reaches for your hand. Jungkook’s eyes zero in on the motion, so you pull both into your lap. There’s a long pause as you feel both eyes on you. Fuck.

Jungkook’s brow furrows. “Uh, no, actually. Yoongi wants you to stay.”

“What?” you gasp.

“Why are you so surprised?” Jungkook asks with his arms crossed.

“Should I go?” Namjoon offers instead.

“Uh,” Jungkook glances to him, brows furrowing more as he tongues at his cheek. “No, he, uh, says that’s cool.”

“That’s _cool_?” Namjoon repeats. “Doesn’t sound like Yoongi.”

It’s so weird to hear Namjoon say that. Too much to consider.

“Well, he didn’t say it _exactly_ like that,” Jungkook rolls his eyes. Namjoon holds back a smile. You can see the familiarity between the two coming back. Oh god. “Look, _someone_ just told me to stop meddling in people’s business, so all I’m saying is, stick around.”

You blanch at Jungkook. Always the petty one. “That is not what I meant.”

Jungkook sasses back at you. “Look, Yoongi was, uh, shocked. So am I, really. But, it’s… yeah not my place. Just stay.”

You look back at your coffee. Black, rippling without a cause. It feels like where you are sinking into. Something dark and unknown that just ripples out attack after attack on your fragile mind right now.

Oh, the whole table tips lightly with the bouncing of Namjoon’s knee. Is he nervous?

“Why?” You ask.

There’s no answer. You glance up at Jungkook, and he looks just as torn. “Look, I gotta go. I’m going to see dad. But just come, okay? Please.”

His large, bambi eyes plead with you. You hang your shoulders with a small nod. You know the reason. Your parents. You have an obligation, no matter how painful it is for you or now the people involved. 

Jungkook gives Namjoon a small nod. He chews on his lip, debating before he asks, “Wanna hang later?”

“That sounds nice,” Namjoon nods, a bit too polite to be comfortable. Jungkook gives another short nod then jogs back out the door.

You sit there, but Namjoon hums as he watches Jungkook leave. “He hasn't aged much.”

“He’ll always be a kid,” you snort. Namjoon gives a short chuckle.

Back to silence.

“So,” Namjoon lets out, dragging on the syllable. “As I was saying, you’re the sister.”

“Step-sister,” you clarify.

“Yoongi said--”

Yoongi, Yoongi. Yoongi’s mad. Yoongi wants you to stay. Does he really want it? The look on his face. The look on Namjoon’s face. The way they know each other. History. Too much fucking history here.

“I need to go,” you stand. You motion to the computer bag Namjoon brought down with him. “And you need to work. I promised you’d have time. So I’ll leave you to it.”

Namjoon hesitates. He chews on his cheek, brows drawn as he looks up at you. Then, without complaint, he starts unpacking his bag.

As you leave, you can’t help but glance back at him. Too big for the small table, his body hunched over, glasses fitted on his face now as he leans into the screen. It’s so simple. Namjoon’s always growing. Accepting the challenges when he can’t change them. Here he is, simply back to work because he knows what needs to be done.

But what do you need to do? What needs to be done for you? You thought you knew. You thought coming here and showing just a little bit that you’ve grown would be enough. But as you get back in the elevator and the doors draw close, you question everything again. The reflection of the same girl from years ago stares back at you.

Have you really changed? Do you even know how, when everything is repeating again?

Walking down the empty hotel corridor, you realize… you don’t want to be alone right now. The key hovers over the reader, but you can’t bring yourself to enter. Here, in this town, you’d never been alone. Not until you left. Even then, you quickly found distractions in work and roommates. 

A longing claws in your chest not to be left alone with yourself. Everything is too overwhelming. The circumstances are too similar.

You are quite the fucking mess. You can’t go back downstairs, since you just ran away up here.

You smirk to yourself at that. Running away. That’s what you do. You ran from a broken heart, a broken home, a broken friendship. You ran from fear, chaos, and only ended up in a loop somehow. Like you’re stuck in the stupid track circle at your old high school only 5 miles from here. You’re back here, too. Just a fucking cycle.

A door clicks down the hall, but you pay it no mind. Not until a soft “hey” calls out to you. You roll your head to the side to take in the sight of your friend only one door down. He’s ghostly. His eyes are sunken, his whole demeanor seeming to lack color along with his face.

“Christ,” you laugh sadly. You shuffle over to him. “Aren’t we a pair?”

Taehyung’s bottom lip trembles as he swings the door open only to pull you into his arms. He tucks his chin over your head, crushing you to him. You hold him gingerly because you fear either of you might break if you hold him just as close. He refuses to let you go as he steps back into the room, awkwardly fumbling towards the bed.

Taking your hand, he shuffles around until you’re cuddled up properly on the pillows. It’s a giant pillow fort, and you can imagine Jungkook and Taehyung also holed up here. When had you stopped letting Jungkook in like that, too?

When you fucked his friends and almost ruined his salary for that year. That’s why.

At least, there’s comradery here. You and Taehyung both keep fucking up. Still, you two rarely spend time alone together. He’s usually lazing over your lap with his head on Jungkook’s shoulder, or constantly fiddling with Jimin’s fingers while the two of you have a conversation. Something feels empty beyond both of you feeling a little confused.

“Is everything okay down there?” Taehyung asks.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, tucking into him tighter. “Ever think you suck at… everything? Life?”

Your body shakes as Taehyung barks a laugh. “I’m supposed to be the theatrical one.”

You let out a giggle, too. You are being dramatic but with reason. Your life feels like a fucking gothic novel with the way everything is crashing down on you. But you remind yourself Taehyung isn’t too far from your situation when it comes to love.

“I wish we could balance out,” you mumble, holding Taehyung tighter

“What?” he asks.

You rest on the pillow next to him. His features are worn, and you wonder if you look the same. “Our problems. You know. I wish we could take a bit from both of us and even it out our dumb brains.”

Taehyung’s smile then is so sad. He reaches to cup your cheek, thumb gently stroking under your eye. You wish you could do that. Touch someone this way and feel safe doing it. Feel nothing but fondness. Not be scared of the intention that lies behind their touch, better yet, not even know the intention behind your own touch. 

“Don’t say that. Our brains aren’t stupid. We aren’t broken… at least not in that way. Life’s a puzzle, and sometimes our pieces don’t fit in every set.”

You groan, batting away Taehyung’s head. You know what he’s getting at. Hoseok isn’t his puzzle. He’s spent weeks now holed up in you or Jungkook’s apartment dealing with it. You’ve seen how it can shatter you to look deeply into yourself and the ones you love. At the same time, it is so strong. So you take the hand you swatted away, interlacing your fingers. “Don’t wax poetry at me.”

Taehyung smiles a bit more genuinely at that. “I think we just got to accept ourselves for what we are.”

“And what’s that?” you ask.

“Chaotic Neutral,” Taehyung says. You snort, swatting his hand away at his ridiculousness. You laugh, and it’s real. The sentiment finally seems to pull something to the surface of Taehyung’s face, a brightness returning a bit. As his chuckles settle, he curls into you with watery eyes.

“Can you pet me head?” he whispers hoarsely.

“Ugh,” you roll your eyes, trying to keep things a bit lighter for your own wellbeing. You’ve seen Jimin do it a hundred times. “You are so needy.”

“You don’t like needy?” the pout sounds in Taehyung’s voice.

You thread your fingers through his thick hair before patting it down. “No, needy is clingy. Clingy is… Clingy is like…”

Like responsibility. Desire. Want. Commitment. Regret. Broken promises. Things crashing down. Uneven feelings leading to distrust and collapse. The breath you take shudders in your chest.

“I get it,” Taehyung says, probably not getting it. “I’m clingy.”

“Not in a bad way,” you correct. Because you wish you could let people in like this without the guarantee that they’d never have feelings for you. “Jungkook likes it. I think he likes getting to take care of someone.”

Taehyung hums. “Jungkook and I have a lot in common. We both watch our dumbass friends fuck around.”

You snort at that, batting his head. “Speaking of Jimin…”

Taehyung’s already reaching in his back pocket for his phone. He shuffles so the phone can lay in between the two of you, where Jimin might usually be, then grabs your hand to keep petting his head.

“Hey?” Jimin asks, voice sounding wary.

“Hey,” you answer first.

Something clatter onto the floor on the other end of the phone. “Is Tae okay?” 

“I’m right here,” Taehyung giggles. “We miss you.”

“Don’t do that,” Jimin sighs so hard it crackles in the phone. “I almost had a heart attack.”

“What, you think he died?” You ask.

“Hello, have you seen him lately? While we are on the topic, can you please make sure he eats?”

“Jiminie,” Taehyung whines, burying his face in a pillow. All it does is emphasize the sharpness of his cheekbones that would usually plump as his chubby cheeks squished against the fabric.

“Don’t _Jiminie_ me. He’s a mess, babe. Take care of him,” Jimin tuts.

“I am. We’re laying in bed,” you say, pinching Taehyung’s arm when he continues to pout.

“Oh?” Jimin sounds intrigued. “That’s new.”

“Yeah, I’m stealing your boyfriend,” you tease. But even as the word falls off your tongue, something twists in your stomach. Taehyung’s eye twitches the slightest bit. You aren’t sure what to say next since you don’t want to acknowledge why you both tensed.

“She’s a substitute,” Taehyung finally chimes in.

“Hey!” You shove a laughing Taehyung who almost falls off the bed.

Jimin’s cheerful laughter joins the two of you through the phone. If he were here, he would have found a way to fall off the bed even wedged between the two of you.

“We called to talk about her boy problems,” Taehyung continues as he fluffs a pillow beneath his chin and anchor himself to the bed.

“Ah, thank goodness,” you can almost hear Jimin wince at the sound of his own relief. “No offense, Tae.”

Taehyung smiles sheepishly. You have no doubt Jimin can picture it on the other end. As Taehyung’s best friend, you guarantee Jimin might be wearing thin on Taehyung’s suffering as much as he loves him. It’s been weeks.

“So, we are talking about you bringing a boy that is ‘just a fuck buddy’ to a wedding after some kind of existential meltdown in his bed a few weeks ago?” Jimin reflects blandly.

Your jaw drops. You don’t know where to start with that comment. You decide to go with the one crucial piece missing.

“He knows Yoongi,” you whisper. Taehyung’s eyebrows lift even though he’d been in the hall.

“Your brother?” without waiting for confirmation, Jimin asks, “Who knows Yoongi?”

“Namjoon.”

“Who’s Namjoon?”

“The guy,” you say.

“What guy?”

“Her guy,” Taehyung says then immediately guards his face from attack.

“Oh,” Jimin says. After a slight pause, he adds a heavy, “Oooooh.”

“I’m just gonna let you two talk about this,” you close your eyes, but Taehyung jostles you.

“Tell him what happened,” he urges. You chew on your cheek with a glare. Taehyung starts back up, so you cover his mouth.

“I know what happened. Jungkook sent it in a flurry of typos,” Jimin says. Wow, typical. “I guess that complicates things even more.”

“Yeah,” you suffice.

“As in, I’m pretty sure things were complicated _before_ this,” Jimin clarifies.

“Wow, rude? You are starting to sound like--” you cut off immediately and redirect from saying _Yoongi_. The mere thought of his name in your mouth makes your eyes burn. Never would you have drawn such comparisons, but now he’s in the front of your mind-- a place he used to constantly occupy and settles back into easily. “It just got weird. I think he isn’t being honest with me. And now this. And now, now I have to go to this wedding tomorrow with him!”

“You don’t _have_ to,” Taehyung says.

“Yeah, you didn’t _have_ to,” Jimin emphasizes. Wow, they are just as obnoxious hundreds miles apart.

“You don’t know my mother,” is all you supply. The daggers, the talk, the disappointment, the glances she’ll give you showing up alone. And Yoongi, making snide remarks. You curl up a bit tighter.

“Babe, I’m going to tell you something you may never have even considered,” Jimin says. You glance at Taehyung who is usually the second half of Jimin’s brain. He only nods along as though Jimin’s already spoken. “Maybe _you_ like Namjoon.”

“That’s not possible,” you retort. You don’t want it to be possible. Because... “that would be a bad idea. Bad in general.”

“Why? Because all the guys you like are trash? Have you considered that maybe Namjoon isn’t trash?”

“Maybe not for now,” you retort.

“Does that mean you might like him later if you think he’ll become trash?” Taehyung muses with a finger to his chin.

“She won’t even know because she never lets anyone in,” Jimin sighs. “I was your roommate, I was your workmate, and I barely knew half the shit Jungkook just essay-texted me!”

“You don’t need to, I don’t want you to,” you grumble. “It all ends in hurt anyway.”

“And there it is,” Jimin sighs. “Babe, you are scared of love. And you are _clearly_ scared of him. I don’t think he’s playing tricks. You are.”

Something tightens in your chest. You close your eyes, but things spin a bit. No. No. Love makes things sticky and messy and hurt. Even now, letting Jimin and Taehyung in too close hurts.

“And? What’s the point?” you ask in a quiet. Taehyung rubs your shoulder, and you hate it. You don’t want that kind of touch. That reassurance. That closeness that can be fudged or taken away. “We see how well love plays out around here.”

As soon as it leaves your mouth, you clamp your hand over it. Taehyung’s arm stills, but he doesn’t retreat. Fuck, again. Why do you always say shit that hurts people?

You roll off the bed and stand.

“Thanks for talking,” you say. “Sorry, Tae.”

“Tae, don’t let her leave!” Jimin shouts through the phone. Taehyung reaches for you, but when you turn, lips pressed thin trying to keep it together, he drops his arm.

“She’s already left,” Taehyung murmurs, eyes on you. There’s something knowing, a sad, remorseful twinkle that makes you feel like you might puke. 

When the door to your room closes, you walk to your bag immediately. It sits next to Namjoon’s, both tucked up next to the small reading desk in the room. They look pleasant lounging there, two pieces of you both that have a scent intermingled, cozy in a stale room. In the opened closet, Namjoon’s suit and your dress hang next to each other, a pair. Too fucking comfortable.

Fuck this. Fuck all of this. You are leaving. That always works best. Just get the fuck out. Get home. Get away from this.

Your phone chimes from inside your bag as you reach for it. You chuck duffle on the bed and rip through the contents haphazardly, ready to stuff it all back in and leave.

The number is unknown, but there’s a sinking in your gut telling you that you know who it is.

You’re proven correct when your mother’s shrill voice responds with your full name. “What have you done this time?”

Your mother’s favorite line, even after all these years. Granted, how could you expect a hello after what just happened.

“Yoongi told you?” you ask.

“Oh, did he tell me,” your mother spits. “I don’t know what hold you have over that poor boy. Your brother took the time to lecture _me_ on being appropriate when he insisted you come to this wedding. Yet here you are abusing his kindness to make another jab at him. Is it fun being childish like this? Do you enjoy embarrassing us to this day? The first thing you could think about when you came here was how to make us miserable?”

You hold the phone back, staring at the screen in disbelief. “Yoongi wanted me here?”

“What?” your mother scoffs. “You think I would after you took everything I tried to do for you for granted then stormed out of this house without another word?” You can hear her tossing things around, probably preparing decorations.

“You didn’t?” You know you should be hurt, but you are more baffled about Yoongi. He wanted you here? And… didn’t Jungkook say you couldn’t leave? This isn’t making sense.

“Now, listen to me, missy,” your mother huffs. You can almost imagine the way her hair falls about from the excessive exhale she always does when she makes a show out of trying to monitor her temper. “You are going to stop making everything about yourself for a few goddamn hours, and you’ll be at this wedding, so help me god. And you will _behave_. Do you understand?”

You don’t understand. You are, actually, confused about absolutely everything happening around you right now. Namjoon and who he is to you, what he wants. Your friends and the things they know. Jungkook going to Yoongi and asking you to stay. Yoongi wanting you here.

“I-”

“Good, see you at 4:30pm. And don’t be late to make a scene.” Your mother hangs up.

You drop the phone back to the bed and follow after it. Head in your hands, you stare at the abstract design of the carpet for who knows how long.

What is going on?

At this point, with everything, Yoongi’s face, Namjoon’s truth bomb, Jimin pushing you, your mother’s cold words, your mind blanks. You stop packing. You put your phone down. You leave the room and go down the elevator. Your mind checks out and your feet carry you elsewhere

In the lobby, Namjoon notices you. You have enough sense to wave as you head out the door. He waves back, seeming confused.

You walk down the cracked sidewalk. This little hotel burrow is unfamiliar to you, but once you turn a few streets, your muscle memory carries you towards town. Your body tells you that you need food. Easy. A simple task. You can do that. You can’t fuck up food.

Where you live now has an incredible turn over. It’s a city, unlike this small town, that is growing. Favorite dives turn into apartments or upscale urban restaurants within a few months. But here, everything is the same. Bookstores still have trays of frayed, discounted books outfront. The small deli still has scratched up lettering on the front window. The bricks change colors halfway down from where a flash flood lifted them from their very foundation one year. And of course, the only pizza place in town stood on the far corner of the street.

As you step inside, the rush of grease and garlic knocks you back to the present. You remember to say hello when greeted. You stand in line, staring at the white board littered with black letters and numbers. Namjoon needs to eat, too.

You crane ahead as the line moves. Your stomach jumps. Curly, black hair faces away, shuffling a pizza through the oven. You duck, wishing you had a hoodie on, anything, before the man turns.

But when he does, it’s just a kid. A teenager, much like you once were, working a part time job at a pizza place. Not Jeremy. You glance around. No face here seems as familiar as the establishment itself. New groups of college kids sit at a table chucking straw wrappers at each other. Parents you don’t recognize argue with little kids.

You place an order for a small pizza, hoping it’s enough to split. If not, there’s always the hotel lobby Namjoon’s already sitting in to provide snacks. You stand by the drinks, waiting with your ticket. You continue to watch the place with a kind of surreal awe. You feel displaced, yet at home. The lack of faces makes you ease up a bit.

But one face, one only, rings a bell. A girl who you knew from on campus. Not close in anyway, but you’d bumped into her a few times. She most likely can feel someone staring because she looks up after a moment. She squints as though there’s an inkling of recognition, too. You give a small nod, and she nods back, still a bit quizzical.

She reaches for her phone. You know she could be doing anything. But in your mind, as the warm box of the pizza is placed in your hand, all you can think is that she is telling anyone that you are here. Someone who she might think cares that you are back. And anyone who would care, wouldn’t be good.

Because everyone you knew here, you broke ties with. You ruined it.

You take off from the pizza place, shoulder aching with the intensity that you hit the door. Not sure whether to run or walk to avoid drawing attention, your feet carry you at an uneven pace. All you can think about is seeing someone familiar. Someone who doesn’t want to see you. Someone you don’t want to see. And, hell, you might see them tomorrow. You run from the town toward a hotel that might house the very people you are avoiding.

Or worse, they’d moved on. No one was here, and they didn’t remember you. Do you not want to be remembered? Do you want to be forgotten? If anything, you want to forget yourself. You want everyone to forget you and just start over.

You’re gasping when you get back in the hotel. The air is cold compared to the spiraling heat of your racing heart and the sun outside. Why? How could everyone in this lobby look so calm? How could the sun be shining? Why is everything always going great except for you?

The door of the hotel room slamming shut gives you the space you need to break.

Unfortunately, there’s a knock before the sound of a keycard clearing comes. You try to calm your racing heart.

“Uh, are you being chased or something?” Namjoon asks. He flips the lights on, you not even realizing you were sitting in the dark. 

“In a way,” you remark. Yourself.

“Well, uh, kind of freaked me out a bit,” Namjoon says as he inches towards you on the bed. God, he smells so good. He always smells good. Even out of his room, even with the pizza on your lap, the earthy scent alights your nerves. You want to pull him close, drag him on top of you. Drown in that scent instead. “You doing okay?”

“Would you be doing okay?” You snap back. What the hell were you just thinking? Namjoon would never. He’ll just try to talk, every fucking time. As he sinks down onto the bed next to you, sprawling out comfortable but watching you closely, you want the smell of garlic to blot out all of your senses.

“I don’t think I know enough to really know if I’d be doing okay…” Namjoon says it as a way of prying. 

You sit on the edge of the bed, eyes wandering over Namjoon with his hands behind his bed. Damn, he is so long. The queen can barely contain him. You sigh with a tilt of your head. You open the box just to focus on the cheese and puddles of grease instead of his soft eyes behind those stupid cute glasses.

You close it again, setting it aside. “I’m not going to lay in the same bed as you and not fuck.”

Namjoon eyebrow raises in question. “Why not?”

“What’s the point of you being here if not?”

Namjoon frowns. “Ouch.”

Your face heats. Shit. Why do you feel bad? It’s the truth. He’s just doing you a favor. As a... As a what? You brought him here mostly as a defense. A fuckable defense. So kind of yes, you brought him to fuck. “Sorry, that’s… that’s not what I mean.”

Namjoon sits up on his elbows. “What did you mean then?”

“Just…” You aren’t sure what to say. “Just fuck me, please?”

Namjoon reaches for you. Despite moving closer, you feel yourself flinch at the touch of his fingers. Even your body is in conflict.

Namjoon pauses. Instead, he drops his hand to your thigh, rubbing gently. His voice is low, eyes serious as he murmurs, “I don’t think we should.”

It stings. It stings so much more than you thought. And it shouldn’t. He can say no.

If he was just a fuck, he could say no without a hitch.

You make a small sound, you aren’t even sure what for, but it serves as a response enough. Namjoon drops back to the bed. He closes his eyes and sighs. 

Awkward. It is so fucking awkward, and you have no idea what to do. You never do. Usually, you ask Namjoon.

Fuck, you do. You reach out to him so much.

You nudge the pizza in his direction. “Pizza.”

“I see,” Namjoon says with raised eyebrows. “You hungry?”

“No,” you say. You aren’t now. You were. You should be. But it feels like your mind is feasting on every negative thing in sight instead. You stand to change into pajamas. 8pm, that’s early enough.

When you come out of the bathroom, Namjoon’s up now, eating a slice and on his phone.

“You know,” Namjoon starts, staring at the bed “You have a point. We’ve never slept together.”

“Isn’t that what we usually do?” you ask cattily.

Namjoon gives you a disapproving cock of his chin, then diverts his gaze back to the phone when he continues, “You know what I mean. So why not?”

You squeeze your eyes closed, hard. Why hadn’t you considered how much Namjoon-ing you’d have to deal with by dragging him along? “It means more.”

“More?”

“More…” you wave your hand around, just like Namjoon does, almost like a signal that you are still speaking. _Just like Namjoon_. You drop your hand immediately. “Like, it means we are more than we are.”

“Is that what’s happening then?” Namjoon asks, voice suddenly soft. Your heart clenches then bolts into your throat. That same soft tone from when you were on the couch that night, from when you walked out of his room that evening. You drop to the bed and turn away, desperate to stare at anything and not remember the gentle gaze that somehow pierced through you and pulled out things you didn’t want to voice but needed to say.

“No,” you say curtly. You hear Namjoon take a breath to push, so you beat him to it. “Nothing’s happening because there’s nothing to happen. You’re doing me a favor. And things got a little messy, but after tomorrow, it’ll be back to normal.”

Namjoon walks over to you. You don’t look back at him. You don’t want to. “You sure?”

You don’t know what he’s asking for assurance on. Normal? Tomorrow being okay? Being nothing?

Are you sure about any of that yourself?

You groan and roll away from him. You curl under the sheets and bury your face in your arms. “Can you not? No Namjooning until tomorrow.”

“Namjooning?” Namjoon chuckles. There’s a beat. “Well, it’s still early, so I’m going back down. You okay if I go? I don’t want to wake you.”

You bite your tongue as the word _don’t_ sticks on your tongue. Don’t what? Don’t go? Ridiculous. You tug the sheets around you tighter. “Yeah, sure.”

The bed sinks as Namjoon leans over the bed towards you. Your entire body stiffens as you brace for what might come. But instead, the gentle words are muttered by your ear.

“Goodnight.”

You don’t say it back. You don’t say anything. You just focus on the colors dancing over your eyelids and hope it all goes away in the morning.

It never does.

* * *

Sleep somehow came easily to you. You don’t remember Namjoon getting in bed. You are relieved to find yourselves not wrapped up together in something difficult to break out of without a series of excuses.

He must have come back late or been exhausted, because you’ve both managed to sleep until noon. Checking your phone, you find several texts from Taehyung and Jungkook calling you lame for not answering earlier in the morning, and a few from last night asking you to join them. You roll your eyes and get ready to hop in the shower.

“Hey,” Namjoon croaks. You freeze in place, turning slowly. He stretches out on his back, looking all the bit comfortable wrapped up in the sheets as his bare arms lay across your empty space. He smiles with sleepy eyes and says, “G’morning.”

You give a small laugh, turning again and dashing into your bathroom. Did your heart just fucking race at that?

“What did you do last night?” You ask absently as you strip for the shower.

“Let Jungkook and Taehyung drag me to a bar,” Namjoon groans from the other side of the door. “Save me hot water.”

“Sounds like you might need a cold shower,” you kid when you hear a thud followed by swearing. With the door in between you two, it’s easy to get back to bantering. Plus, the night helped clear your head of the most chaotic thoughts, leaving you feeling drained but also in a slightly clearer space.

You could do this, you think as you step into the hot water. Just get through today. Smile, fake it like work, and get home. You could avoid Yoongi at the reception. You could sit in the back at the wedding. 

You’ve gotten good at dodging Namjoon’s need to talk lately, anyways. You have him plus Taehyung to distract you even if Jungkook runs off to Yoongi. At least you can fake that you have your shit together enough not to have a breakdown at the wedding.

It’ll all work out as best it can. As best you can.

You spend a bit too long in the shower trying to psych yourself up. The hotel room feels cold compared to the sauna you emerge from, Namjoon picking fun at you trying to waste the heat. You appreciate it, the gentle jabs, knowing that he’s also just going along with things.

Namjoon being his calm, confident self in the face of the unknown is what you need as you both walk the steps to the reception hall. Bodies pass by you, no faces familiar. The air is warm and sticky as a materialization of how your chest feels as you approach the white wreathes and flowers on the large oak doors to the old reception hall.

There’s more people than you expected. You knew it was to be an intimate setting from Jungkook, but you forget that your old best friend is gaining popularity. He has more obligations as to who probably must come. Who knows what his bride wanted.

God, who would have thought Yoongi would be getting married, much less have a wedding? The mere thought makes you smile softly.

Namjoon’s hand steadies on the small of your back. He leans close, murmuring, “Are you ready?”

You nod and walk in, only to be greeted by a small room separating you fron the rest of the bustling sounds and music you hear in the actual hall beyond. There’s a small book people are signing. You take the pen, unsure what to write, and set it back down. Namjoon goes to push you, but you just walk right on by to the next set of doors.

The reception hall, a place you thought you’d attend for all your friends weddings back in the day, takes your breath away. Honestly, you’d never imagined Yoongi or your wedding. It never seemed like a possibility. But the fairytale inside was definitely not what you were expecting. Stringed lights hang from exposed banisters and balls of purple and white flowers hang like chandeliers in between. There’s the scent of garlic and champagne somehow mingling pleasantly together.

Everything is absolutely stunning, and you immediately feel small and out of place even in the limited crowd.

As Namjoon guides you through the hall, you try your best not to look manic as you gaze around the place. To your relief, not one member of Yoongi’s rec team is present. It hurts, knowing you may be why but is also relieving to your mind which has been so worn over the last day.

The simple yet diverse range of food has your mind sidetracking to who the woman is that Yoongi will marry. You don’t find any of his favorite foods, so maybe they are hers. To think you don’t know someone who is now closer to him than you pulls at your heart in a way other than the panic waiting to burst in your chest.

And finally drinks, perfect. You beeline for the table decorated in various glasses, happy to find Taehyung already there with an amber-filled cup.

“Is that good?” you ask.

“No,” he says, handing it over to you. He smiles past you. “Looking good, Namjoonie.”

Your eyes bug at that, choking on the drink. Of course Taehyung might be close with Namjoon. How did you never both run into each other? Probably because you spent so much time in Namjoon’s bedroom. Namjoon even mentioned going out with them last night.

“Ah,” Namjoon chuckles bashfully. You roll your eyes. The man can’t tell he’s walking sex. The suit he wears, a dark burgundy, trims his long legs and somehow frames his waist even with a dress coat. The color makes the light color of his hair stand out, face softened by his glasses and dimples.

“You look good, too, babe,” Taehyung teases as he knocks your shoulder. “Oh shit, fucking cheese tray!”

Taehyung scooters off. You and Namjoon meander around the party a bit, making comments here or there about people’s outfits. Jungkook must be in another room somewhere, so at last, you look for Yoongi.

Not a surprise, Yoongi is hard to find even at his own event. Not just because of his height, but he just seems so subdued as always. He smiles tightly at the people that pass by him, a black suit to match his black hair and black shoes and you almost expect black fingernail polish like when he was a kid. He looks the same, but oh so different. His shoulders have broadened, his face thinned out a bit. But still, he makes that same obligatory face to strangers. You dodge his eye when he searches, worried that expression might be turned toward you, or even something worse.

There’s not a toast. There’s not even a real formal sit down meal. It’s more just a group of people intermingling and getting to know each other before you all sit reverently tomorrow and watch the vows. This part, at least, feels very Yoongi. No big show, just the todos that must be done.

You gaze out over the party. In the warm light and rumble of voices, there’s no longer a trace of Yoongi and his blushing bride. Your eyes dance across family members, strangers, and old acquaintances. Your mother has pointedly ignored you the whole time, even when Jungkook pointed your way. You look away from where she talks to your stepfather animatedly, that familiar fake smile glued to her face. 

Looking for a reason to smile yourself, you watch children entertain themselves on the dance floor, pushing and shoving and laughing. The songs have shifted from filler music to easy dance tunes, and a few older couples you don’t recognize make their way onto the floor. Strange, to be more at ease surrounded by unfamiliar faces.

Really, the evening is beautiful and subdued, just how Yoongi would want it. The least you can do is stay out of the way.

Namjoon taps your shoulder. It’s soft, as it always is. You take the wine from his outstretched hand. He’s gorgeous, every bit the gentleman with his quaffed hair and straight posture. The suit fits him as perfectly as his day clothes, and somehow, he looks even taller. You really can’t blame yourself or your Yoongi for wanting such a man.

“Isn’t your family gonna get suspicious if we aren’t, you know, touching?” Namjoon asks, following your earlier gaze.

You take a sip of the wine. A red blend, god bless Yoongi. “First of all, I guarantee you all these people know you’re my brother’s ex even if they won’t admit he’s bi. Small town telephone game.” Namjoon’s eyes grow large, hand covering his mouth in distress. “Second, that demon woman across the room may skin me on the spot if I try to touch someone here.”

“That’s ironic,” Namjoon snorts then winks. You fix him with a look. He clears his throat and leans in. “Seeing as you sell the shit people touch themselves with all day.”

You’re stunned, especially since it sounds more like a comment Jimin would make. Something is off about Namjoon today. You noticed it this morning when he seemed so nonchalant after his concern yesterday. It was nice, but his odd air of confidence is throwing you off. “Touching all that shit might be why I don’t want to touch people at all.”

Namjoon takes it into consideration. “That makes sense. Maybe you’ve desensitized yourself.”

You nod, turning back to the party. You aren’t playing the Namjooning game, so you stand in silence. You both stand side by side, sipping your drinks for a bit. The music is soft, and you’re grateful Namjoon doesn’t ask you to dance.

“But,” Namjoon starts after a moment. “I don’t see how your job, or what in general, could keep you from wanting to fall in love.”

The comment shocks you again. It hadn’t come up once since your talk in bed, but it had hung there in the air. Like a fly on the wall you both ignored. You turn to Namjoon, stunned he’d say it so openly here of all places, but Jungkook smoothly slides in behind you both with a cheeky smile.

“I guess he’s straight now, huh?” Jungkook giggles. His smile stretches too wide, clearly drunk and giddy.

You roll your eyes, but Namjoon scoffs and presses, “Why’s that?”

“Well,” Jungkook bends between you two to get a drink. “He’s marrying Soo-hyun.”

“Dude,” Namjoon takes a sip of his drink and throws his arm over Jungkook’s shoulders. You don’t think you’ve ever heard Namjoon call someone dude. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Namjoon blush over a hug. “You can’t ungay half of someone by marrying a woman. I have proof that guy is, and always will be, bi. Marrying a woman doesn’t change that.”

Jungkook makes a face mixed between embarrassment and giggles. “Ah, it was a, um, a joke,” is all he says. He downs his drink, cheeks blushing harder as he only gets tipsier, and grabs your hand. “Let’s dance.”

“No,” you argue, letting his feet carry you anyway.

“Come on,” Jungkook says. “I want the prettiest dance partner!”

You snort at that. “What’s gotten into you?”

Jungkook shrugs, putting your hand on his shoulder and taking the other as you join the kids and elderly on the floor. He sways softly to the LoFi beat playing. “‘M’ drunk. Everyone’s together. I’m kind of scared and kind of happy.”

You lower your gaze from his sloppy smile, staring at the fine stitching of his suit. You always forget Jungkook’s wrapped up in all this. A mediator at times, a bridge between the two of you.

“You look old, you know,” you comment after eyeing how grown up he looks in his suit. You twist his cheek, so Jungkook twists his mouth in disapproval.

“How do you feel about trust falls?” Jungkook asks suddenly.

“Wha-stop!” You muffle a shriek as Jungkook suddenly spins, dipping you low. You scrabble for a hold on his shoulders as you stare up at his wicked grin and the lights of the ceiling before he rights you both.

You gasp for breath, smacking his shoulder as you giggle still. “Don’t ever do that again, or I will clip all the wires in the house.”

Jungkook laughs, all his teeth on display as he takes your hand again and fakes another dip. “You think I’d drop you?”

You cock your head and think for a second. “Maybe.”

“Hmmm…” Jungkook thinks, too, but he’s not as good at faking his intentions. You can tell his eyes now look a bit conflicted. “Maybe you should consider trusting people. Or yourself, for that matter.”

He won’t meet your gaze as he continues to stare straight ahead nervously. His thick brows twitch as he takes a deep breath, a hundred thoughts buried in the cinch of his eyebrows as always. “Christ, Kook. I just don’t want you to dip me.”

Jungkook focuses on you again. He drops your hand, moving to place both politely on your hips. The nerves turn into a twinkle. “Namjoon always says christ.”

You sputter at that. For a moment, you’d forgotten the chaos that circled the dancefloor. How Jungkook is not only stuck between you and Yoongi and Taehyung and Hoseok… he’s now tangled up with the Namjoon shit.

“Sorry I make things harder for you,” you murmur. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and hold him closer.

Jungkook chuckles as he rocks gently to the song. “Well, then make things a bit easier.”

“How?” you ask, looking up with a teasing squint. “What can I do for Jungkookie?”

Jungkook wrinkles his nose at the old nickname. Now, it only serves to remind him he was a kid. Then, his features smooth out, focused on something behind you again. “You can give yourself a chance.”

“A what?” you ask, smiling at his cryptic wording accompanied by a small pout.

“Namjoon,” Jungkook says, and now you realize where he’s looking. “Give him a chance.”

“What?” you ask, stopping your dance moves. Jungkook stops, too, but he doesn’t let go.

“I think you should give yourself a chance with Namjoon,” Jungkook says more firmly. “He’s a good guy, I know it. Last night, we talked. It’s not always going to end up like--”

“Stop,” you grit out. Jungkook’s jaw snaps shut and another hand joins his on your waist.

“Looks like I came over in time,” Namjoon jokes. You glare at Jungkook with a warning, then step back.

“I don’t want to dance anymore,” you state.

Namjoon rolls his head back. “Come on, you dragged me here, I’m bored, and you won’t even dance with me?”

Jungkook lets out a low _ooh_ , and you would shove him halfway across the dance floor if this was your apartment instead.

“Low blow,” you grumble as Namjoon brings you in with a devilish smile.

“Sorry, was getting a little jealous,” He murmurs as Jungkook awkwardly walks off to Taehyung, hands drifting just a tich below appropriate.

The confession sends a shiver from his hands up your spine. He’d said something similar at the car the other day. Wait. “We don’t do jealous?”

Namjoon sighs then, straightening up. He steps back with your hands then pulls you back in, mirroring the silly dances of the couples around you. “You don’t do a lot of things.”

You don’t push it. He’s prying. He’s using those stupid remarks to get something out of you, you just don’t know what.

“No need to worry about Jungkook,” you deflect instead. “We already had that talk.”

Namjoon startles at that with a bemused smirk. “You have?”

You smirk. “What? Is that weird? We do live together.”

Namjoon considers it then shrugs. He guides your hands to his shoulders, lacing his fingers behind your back. It’s strange. The position is comfortable, one you’ve been in many times before against the wall, on the couch, between the sheets, but there’s something terrifyingly intimate about doing it now. As his fingers trace your spine then drum on your hips, the beat changes over.

“It is kind of weird, seeing as you guys are practically siblings,” Namjoon muses.

You laugh at that and look up at him. His smile is easy, loosened by the alcohol, eyelids heavy. “You know, I’ve spent a long time trying to convince people of that. You might be the first person to get it.”

Namjoon laughs, too, a low, comforting sound. You feel it reverberate in his chest from where you’ve naturally leaned in closer. Now that you think about it, you are always drifting closer.

“I like to think I get you,” Namjoon says below the music.

“Nobody gets me,” you sass, but it’s weak.

“I think I’m getting pretty close,” Namjoon remarks, grip firmer like he knows you might pull back.

You pull your hands back to his chest, but you don’t pull away, if not just to prove him wrong.

“Really?” you tease. “Think you got me all figured out.”

Namjoon doesn’t say anything. He just nods, eyes dipped low watching your smile. When you tilt your head up expectantly waiting for his next snarky remark, he says, “I think I know what you want.”

“Okay, then what is it?” you ask. Namjoon’s chest thumps hard. Or maybe it’s your own. You’re not sure, but the music sounds quieter. The whole world feels silent, small, and not in the frightening way it had when you first walked in. It’s like the world is just the space left between your lips. They brush close, and your breath catches. Namjoon releases your back, hand dragging up your side until it gently cups your neck.

And as he leans in closer, so much else moves forward with him. The small world tips on the edge. Starts to crack. The parting of his lips tries to pull something back in your mind that you don’t want to.

You let go of him and step back.

“No,” you whisper. Thankfully your body steps back from what your mind wouldn’t. Namjoon’s hand drifts there, eyes still angled down, lips pressing into a firm line. He tilts his head up after a moment, hand falling to his side, an almost irritated gleam in his eye.

“No?”

You shake your head, taking another step back. “No.”

“No what?” Namjoon asks as you turn. He reaches for you but you don’t give it another glance.

No this. No that. No to whatever the fuck was about to happen. No. No not again.

You reach the door of the reception hall and burst through back into the dim waiting area. This time, when Namjoon’s hand is comfortingly placed on your back, you whip around and knock it off. “No!”

“For Christ’s sake, no _what_?” Namjoon says. When the door closes shut with a bang, leaving you both alone, he pleads, “Fucking talk to me!”

“I don’t _want_ to talk, Namjoon,” you shout. “I want to, I don’t know, fuck you and get on with it!”

“Oh, really?” Namjoon says with a disbelieving snort. “Is that what I’m doing here? Is this getting on with it? Bringing me to a family wedding?”

“I-”

“ _That’s_ when you say no,” Namjoon seethes. “Or maybe, you should have said no earlier than this. You should have said no when you wanted me to fucking choke the feelings out of you.”

“Yeah, I should say no to you fucking trying to kiss me at my brother’s wedding, who, by the way, you _fucked_!” you jab.

“Oh, please,” Namjoon groans, running his hands down his face. “That is not what this is about and you know it.”

“What is it about then, Namjoon?” You cross your arms, and it _is_ your heart. You feel it thudding against you, and now you cross your arms to hold yourself together. “You always have the answers. So insightful and shit. What is this about, open my fucking mind why don’t you?”

“Don’t even start,” Namjoon hisses. He steps into your space, eyes blazing and jaw tight, but you are not backing down. “Don’t make this about me. You always do that, you know? Pick on me for the fact that I fucking want to figure myself out. Like self-reflection is a crime. You should try it sometimes instead of deflecting.”

“I’m not deflecting,” you argue back, putting a finger to his chest. Namjoon inhales deep and his nostrils flare like he’s physically restraining himself. “We had terms. This wasn’t supposed to be… to be…”

“To be what?” Namjoon growls. His smile is almost vindictive, but fear flashes in his coals burning in his eyes. “Come on, tell me.”

“To be you falling in love with me!” You screech finally. The signs. All the fucking signs. All the same as before. It had become less about sex. It had become dog walks, funny messages, chats about fucking _college_ , and lastly sticking around. It had become.

“Don’t fool yourself,” Namjoon demands. His tone is suddenly so level-headed it scares you. “Me falling in love with you? That’s it?”

Your eyes tear up against your will. Namjoon goes on, “This isn’t just _me_. If you could get over your ridiculous fucking rules, you’d see that I am not alone in this.”

“No,” you gasp, suddenly struggling to breathe. You take a step back, then another. Not from him, but from all of this. The worlds coming out finally shattered it. The illusion you’d held up since so long ago. The things you’ve been fighting since they clawed at the surface that night you went to his place first.

You know he’s right. You’ve known it. You’ve felt it, but you could control it, couldn’t you? You could do better. You aren’t going to get hurt. Not going to hurt others. “I’m not, I don’t fall in love. I don’t do love.”

“Why the fuck not?” Namjoon groans. He’d always been so calm. But he’s not a punching box. He punches back. He drags his fingers through his hair angrily and fires off again. “God, what’s with all your rules? What’s your deal? I’m okay with wherever this is going, but I need to know where. Stop fucking lying to yourself. Something is going on.”

You shake your head, trying to shake out the need to go to him, and step back, grasping for a wall, anything to support you other than Namjoon. He’s not done, either.

“You want us to have everything, the emotional connection and the feelings and, of course, the sex. But you want it to turn on and off like a switch and that’s just not how love works!”

You gasp for air. “We aren’t in love!”

“What if I said we are?” Namjoon shouts, waving his hands exasperatedly. “I mean anything. Sure, my philosophical bullshit, but any kind of love or meaningful connection. Jungkook told me. He told me how you are about-”

“He what?” You almost shriek. Jungkook? Is that what they were up to last night? Conspiring behind your back? Why Namjoon seems different? Why Jungkook pushed it?

Namjoon curls his lips in, taking a deep breath that rattles his whole body. He rakes his fingers through his hair again, ruining it. Ruining you. Ruining this. But you’d already started that, hadn’t you? “You can’t just shut it on and off as you wish. Your feelings and connections and even the sex.”

“Why not?” you shout back, turning away.

“Because I’m a fucking human, too!” Namjoon finally shouts. “I’m not fucking perfect and I’m sure as hell not a goddamn robot you can pick up whenever you want, regardless of whatever this is, okay?”

“Maybe I am just a shit person, Namjoon,” you shout into your palms, voice muddled by the wet sobs breaking in your throat. “Maybe I just want to come in and out of a relationship as I can without having to emotionally commit and watch my feelings fade away. Or better yet, watch _you_ fade away without me. People always stay friends longer than lovers. When you love someone, it fucking… any love, you asshole, it destroys everything.”

You crumble then, dropping to your knees and burying your face. Love is loss. And you, you’re loveless and lost.

“What if I said... I like you, too?”

“No,” you say to him, to your stuttering heart.

“No? Are you saying my feelings dont matter?”

“No,” you repeat, grabbing at the roots of your hair. “They’ll go away. Are you fucking listening? I don’t want it. I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever loved. ”

“Well, you don’t know that for sure,” Namjoon corrects. His voice is closer, and you almost want to roll away.

“But they _COULD,”_ you sob. You hold back the tears with the heels of your palms. The splotches of color behind your eyes do nothing to hide the unmaterialized feelings of pain, hurt, fear, love, not love, no, can’t be love.

“Are you accusing me of something I might not even do?” Namjoon asks, continuing a conversation you don’t want to be a part of.

“I don’t know!” You wail as your voice cracks. The sob that follows seems to snap Namjoon out of his pressuring. The small entryway sounds so quiet now, his heavy sigh filling your ears.

“Hoseok told me,” Namjoon says, voice quiet as he crouches down next to you. You finally look up from between your fingers and you wish you didn’t. The eyes that meet yours aren’t understanding. They’re exhausted and disparaged. What you deserve. “Yoongi mentioned… and then Jungkook… They said everyone falls for you and you run away. But it’s cause you’re falling. You just want somenoe you feel comfortable and safe with to fuck when you need to. But it’s not going two ways. You are making it into something more. I mean… now, at least, Iknow everything about you. We hang all the time. I want to hang out all the time. But now, if we call it nothing, it’ll hurt, but it won’t be worse when it fades. Is that what you want?”

“Don’t do this to me,” you whimper. Not here, not now.

“I’m not doing this to you,” he clarifies. “I’m doing this for me. I can’t be in this back and forth. What you are saying you want isn’t matching your actions. You don’t understand what you’re doing.”

“I know what I’m doing,” you look up, scared to show him how broken you are and scared to watch him leave but hoping it will keep him. You are playing it safe. Not having to hurt someone when the love fades. Not having to hurt yourself when you realize it’s slipped away, and there's nothing you can do.

But isn’t it slipping away now? Aren’t you hurting?

“I don’t think you do,” Namjoon murmurs. And finally, his anger and coolness crack. His eyes squint, a wet twinkle taking over before he glances away. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

You reach out without fully realizing. The fabric of his suit feels rough compared to his soft touch you’ve grown accustomed to. “I don’t think I ever will be.”

Namjoon blinks twice. A tear falls before he sniffs, standing tall and your hand falls to your lap. “Then let me know if that’s what it comes to.”

You just keep looking straight ahead, where’d you just seen that threat of tears. Another person broken in front of you. “You’re falling. And you’re scared. And you run. But not this time.”

You see the shift of his heels, the black soles of his shoes, as Namjoon turns and walks away. He’s not running. It’s a steady, firm stride.

And he’s gone.

Gone.

Always fucking gone.

You, always alone. You thought you did it right. You thought it would work.

The common denominator is you. You… you can’t work. You can’t do this.

You stand, stumbling a bit. You gasp for breath, steadying yourself as you head to the door that leads outside. Air, you need air.

You push open the doors, ready to just wail on the back steps, but someone is there when you open the door. You stare in shock at a face that must look as ragged as your own.

“Hoseok?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eeep. By the way, I got a twitter! it's _jupiterjoon and my tumblr (which I have had for awhile) is joopiterjoon.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s time to figure some things out. Not starting with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fastest chapter update for Hooked ever.  
> I listened to "Figure It Out (Acoustic)" by Orla Garland while writing a lot of this. Also "Side Effects" by Carlie Hansen

“What?”

“The fuck?”

Hoseok blinks back at you. Bemusement quickly eclipses the dread on his face. You are still a little too stunned to take part in his shocked chuckling.

“Well, fuck. If that’s a sign if I ever did see one,” Hoseok as he loosens his tie. Holy shit, he’s even dressed the part. A button-down and hair styled and parted to fit the room. You can’t think for a minute, taken aback by how striking he looks with the way his parted hair makes his features look sharper but all the more delicate. His awkward smile as he notices you noticing his hair snaps you back to the present.

Hoseok is here… at the reception… that you and Namjoon just stormed out of. But why is he here?

“Were you-” You and Hoseok both yelp as a door opens. Some local kid in a waiter’s outfit two sizes too big holds a bottle of champagne close to his chest. You turn back to Hoseok who has a hand over his own chest in shock. “Hold on.”

You grab the bottle as the kid runs by. He tugs back with a startled, “Hey!”

“We need this,” you say with a tight smile and tighter grip.

“But that’s for-”

“Thanks!” You tug hard enough to get it, step out the door, and drag Hoseok up the hill opposite the reception hall.

Neither of you say a word as you uncork the bottle, then hand it to him to take a sip. Strange, to pop champagne with no celebration. The lights of the party flicker as people pass by the windows. Familiar faces you thankfully can’t distinguish from up here, yet your eyes still scan the windows for Namjoon.

“Thank god you caught me,” Hoseok finally says as his eyes also search the windows below. He takes a deep breath in, holds it, then deflates into the grass. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

“Yes, you do, you dumbass,” you retort, still watching the party. “You came here like some 80s romcom to win over someone you should get over.”

“Wow,” Hoseok says with a sense of irony. He jabs at your side until you hand over the bottle. “You’re so good at this. Why can’t you do it for yourself?”

You take the bottle back before he can take a sip. “Do as I say, not as I do.”

“Okay,  _ mom _ ,” Hoseok snorts. You bark a laugh, the sound twisting as you catch sight of your mother. She’s probably secretly elated you are gone. Maybe hasn’t even noticed.

Hoseok sits back up, scoots a bit closer with a few peetering sounds, and watches the party with you. “This was dumb of me, huh?”

You nod, giving him the bottle back as a reward. He takes it with a small smile, another deep sigh before he throws it back. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” you say a bit sarcastically. You don’t know if it was good or bad. If Hoseok is using you as an excuse or a resource. Hoseok and Taehyung always threw you off because Hoseok never cracked. Ever. He had a well maintained customer service appearance that seemed to stretch into all aspects of his life. But with Taehyung, he cracked, malfunctioned, broke. Something about Hoseok when it was about Taehyung made it hard for you to handle what to do. So you sit. “I know we joke a lot… but… I need to be real with you.”

You nod.

“Joonie’s good for you, I think.”

You glance over at Hoseok. That’s not where you thought he was going. He’s watching the party, again, undoubtedly telling himself he’s not searching out Taehyung.

“You were the one who said we would be a good fit,” you shrug, trying to fight off the sting. Everything that just happened still feels like a blur. You wish it would overwhelm you into numbness, but instead it just threatens on the edge, stinging at your tear ducts.

“No,” Hoseok takes the bottle from you and sets it down. He turns towards you, and if you knew he wouldn’t call you out for it, you would have turned the other way. “I thought you would be  _ good _ for  _ each other _ . As in,” Hoseok claps his hands “-together. And I wasn’t clear on that. And Joonie, he’s not going to push it. So I thought it would give you time to sort yourself out. And he’s also amazing, so I knew being around him might… I don’t know, help you.”

“Help me with what?”

“With how fucking scared you are of love.”

“How would you know that?” You demand, words filled with a bit too much bite.

Hoseok rolls his eyes. “Babe, you’re scared all the time. You are always setting limits. Hell, we talk about sex all the time, but I don’t really know you. Joonie barely knows you. I can’t believe how far he cracked your shell. And I think you should let him in.”

You take the bottle and drink half of it. It burns, all the bubbles catching in your throat, but you want to do so much more than burn. You want to light yourself on fire and turn to ash and not deal with any of this. You remember Namjoon bringing up Jungkook talking to him, Hoseok talking to him...

“What is with you people?” you accuse through a coughing fit. “Why is everyone conspiring against me? It’s not so fucking easy.”

“Oh, come on,” Hoseok groans. “Babe, you are just--”

“I ruined Yoongi’s life,” you say. It shuts Hoseok up. His mouth and hands freeze in place. It’s really what it comes back to. Not so much Jeremy, you realize. Not the other hurt. But that hurt. The hurt of losing someone you love in such a different way from sex. That there was no love, none that was saved from you fucking it up.

“Oh,” Hoseok answers.

“I…” It gushes out of you then. “Just being myself, I ruined his life. He’s the only person I ever really, truly loved. I mean Jungkook, too, sure, but he’s… Yoongi saw all of me. And I ruined everything. I made it hard for him growing up, made him lose his friends, I even think I took Jungkook from him in a way. I hurt Jungkook. I hurt so many people. I got hurt. And it fucking, I don’t know, it  _ hurts! _ ”

You don’t know what you are saying again, hands in your hair and tears on your cheeks. “And now, I came here wanting to fix everything, but… Hoseok… He and Namjoon…”

“What?” Hoseok breathes, grabbing your shoulder.

“They used to date!”

Hoseok cannot hide his gasp.

“Well, not date but... I fucking… without even knowing it, I took someone from him again. I fucked up again. I finally tried to do things right, and now look at this shit. I’m drinking with you on a hill outside his wedding.”

The tears fall over. They wet your dress as you sob. Hoseok gently rubs your back until you come to again.

“This may not be what you want to hear, doll,” Hoseok says quietly. “It sounds like there’s a lot to sort through. And you should. But if this was your idea of doing things right, hun, you didn’t get it. I mean, the way you talk about Namjoon? The way you both act, just from when I saw you? That wasn’t just fuckbuddies. I know that’s what you wanted it to be, but it’s not.”

“It was!” You cry back, shaking your head.

“I think you like him a lot,” Hoseok says quietly. “You can tell yourself you don’t love or you don’t want the hurt, but you walked right into it. Maybe you should embrace it.”

“Why is everyone forcing this on me?” You shake off Hoseok as you shout.

“Because you are forcing it away from yourself, you dumb bitch!” Hoseok shouts back. “Have you learned nothing from me and Taehyung? Dancing around our feelings and fucking hurting each other. You and Namjoon are only going to end up hurt if you keep getting closer but keeping this up.”

“We are not,” you shake your head and snatch the bottle back. “We don’t like each other. That’s your problem. You and Taehyung like each other.”

“Your problem is you won’t admit that you do,” Hoseok says, sitting up straighter, too.

“So I’m fucked either way!” You shout, throwing your hands up. “I already knew that! I’m always fucked. Get fucked, be fucked, stay fucked up. That’s me! Haha! Are you fucking happy?”

Hoseok blinks, leaning away at your outburst. His eyes are wide in shock, and you clue in to how hysterical you sound. Everything’s hysterical. Really, at this point, crying in the grass with a stolen bottle of champagne next to your friend who tried to crash it for a boy he refuses to be with, you decide things can’t get any more ridiculous. “Fine! Maybe I like Namjoon. But you know what happens when you like someone? You know. It hurts. It always fucking hurts. Getting close to  _ anyone _ fucking hurts because they can leave you. Whenever they want. You say you don’t know me but no one really knows anyone, really. Like you said, Namjoon doesn’t even know me so won’t it only get worse?”

“He might if you bring it-”

“Don’t fucking encourage me!” You shout. “Don’t encourage me to fuck this up! Why can’t… Why can’t it just be easy? Rules! I set rules! I tried to make this as rigid as possible and- and- and still… everyone’s fucked up…”

Your words disappear into sobs. Hoseok grabs onto you, holds you close, and you realize it’s the first time you’ve really hugged. You keep everyone so far away. But now, you’ve clung to Namjoon in your bed, held Taehyung as you both broke down, and have Hoseok wrapped around you.

You’ve let so many people in. No matter what you try to tell yourself, you let them in. You are already trusting them with yourself. Fuck.

“Um,” Hoseok clears his throat after a minute. “There’s someone coming towards us.”

“What?” you ask, hiding farther into his shoulder. You are totally fucking up his shirt, but you might as well add that to the list.

“I think it’s the groom. He has the uh, flower thing on the breast pocket. Maybe you were yelling too loud.”

You jerk up. “The  _ who? _ ”

Sure enough, down the hill, a slouching figure trudges up the hill. You and Hoseok stare on in silence as the man approaches, someone you’ve wished to come towards you for years but now leaves you wondering if you should bolt for the literal hills. 

The syllables that used to form so fondly on your tongue bounced around in your mouth before you rubbed the tears from your eyes and meekly said, “Yoongi?”

Hoseok squeaks and covers his mouth.

“Hi,” Yoongi’s voice is gruff and low between pants. He smiled. One of those short smiles, just the smallest stretch of his lips that somehow still reached his eyes.

“Yoongi,” you call again, the sound more familiar. To hear yourself speak your best friend’s name as a sign of recognition, as a calling, after these years in between. “Why do you want me here?”

It’s not the question you meant to start with. Maybe how are you? But being in his presence brought you back to that stupid brash girl you thought you’d grown from. You couldn’t help but speak your mind around him. It was a strange sense of familiarity that bled through the confusion and fear and doubt.

“I’m going to…” Hoseok trails off, looking at the both of you. “I think I should, uh, get out of here. This was stupid.”

You shake your head, fingers latching onto his shirt tightly, but he still stands. Before he walks off, he adds, “Like you. So stop being stupid.”

Your jaw drops. He takes the bottle, sauntering off backwards, so he can still spy on whatever is about to transpire. What a fucking idiot. After all that yelling, that’s what he leaves you with.

Yoongi watches Hoseok leave then stares awkwardly at the line of trees behind you. Finally, he walks up next to you and turns to face the hall down below. The lights still sparkle. The party continues on with one of the stars missing. Yet here, in the low light of night, Yoongi looks more himself. The crafted pleasantry slips from his features. There’s a boyish roundness to his cheeks when you look up at his face. And as he sits, you recognize the pensive stare in the distance he always has. A permanent scowl from being deep in thought.

He shifts, leaning back on his hands. It’s much the same way you both sat on the curb in high school, on the edge of one of your beds, at a friend’s house. A pattern that seems unbroken.

“I never pictured myself getting married without you there,” Yoongi finally answers.

Your breath catches. You can’t help but twist towards him, ready to rush with questions. But something in you has grown since you left. Uncertainty and doubt.

“What do you mean?”

Yoongi sighs, resting his arms on his knees. Then, he looks at you. Really, really looks at you. His dark eyes are wide, pouty lips parted, eyebrows drawn the smallest bit together. The crease of his youth has been joined by other worry lines. His cheeks may be there, but his jaw has become more pronounced. He slouches over, taking you in. You are probably a fucking mess. You’ve been crying on the ground in a most-likely ruined dress trading off a bottle of champagne. You wipe at your eyes again and take a deep breath and manage what must be the shitteist, most trembling smile you’ve ever given.

Yoongi smiles back, wider. “I’ve missed you.”

Oh, fuck.

Your eyes well, and before you can think better of it, you smack his arm. “What the fuck?”

“The-?” Yoongi answers with a shove. “I said I missed you!”

“What does that  _ mean _ ?” You stress, facing him and his stupid half smile. “You want me at your wedding? You missed me? Why were you so fucking pissed? I’ve been freaking the fuck out for, I don’t know, months?”

“Ah,” Yoongi winces, fingers haphazardly twirling in the air. “I, um, it wasn’t how I thought it would go.”

“How it would go?” You repeat, confused.

Yoongi rubs absently at the back of his collar. “In the hall. I was prepared to see you but not like that”

Your jaw drops. “You ran away because your script didn’t work out?”

“I didn’t want to fight, but I guess that’s what we are doing, huh?” Yoongi groans, throwing his hands up.

You both stare at each other then. His eyes are wetter, glistening in the faint light. Yours are spilling over. And you are both pouting, arguing.

The laughs start to bubble up. At what, you aren’t sure, but it might be the ridiculousness. Everyone is yelling at you. Everything sucks. But arguing with Yoongi like this, even in your formal wear, feels so nice.

“That’s the champagne for the toast. Justin came over freaked out someone stole it,” Yoongi nods in Hoseok’s general direction.

“What a surprise,” you scoff. “I’ve ruined something again.”

“I missed you,” Yoongi repeats when the giggles start to feel awkward. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do.”

“No,” you snap. “You overthought what to do.”

“If you know me so well, why didn’t  _ you _ say something?” Yoongi snaps back with a snort.

And just like that, the awkward feeling vanishes. There’s a pull in your chest to be honest, as always, with Yoongi.

“I thought you hated me,” you whisper. Even with him right there, you still can’t shake the pain and hurt of past Yoongi staring up at you after you outed him. “I thought you never wanted to see me again.”

There’s a pause. It’s long, filled inappropriately with the joyful laughs and sounds of the party. A party for Yoongi. 

“I did,” Yoongi finally says. It’s quiet, only carried by the evening breeze rustling the bushes. “I hated you. I was really, really mad.”

“You had the right to be,” you murmur. The breeze is warm, but you still bring your knees up and wrap your arms around them. You aren’t protecting yourself from the cold.

“But, I got it,” Yoongi says. “I understood. Things sucked. Lost cause. And I learned about what happened with Declan. And those guys were assholes. And then… so much time had passed. I thought I really did lose you. I didn’t know what to say. ”

“I didn’t either,” you cut in quietly, nervous that if you speak too loud, he might stop talking.

“I thought for so long about how I felt and what had happened and what to say that… it had been too long. And I didn’t say anything despite Jungkook’s nagging-”

“He’s always getting in other people’s business,” you can’t help but chime in.

“I know!” Yoongi sighs with a shake of his head. “I felt bad for him, stuck in between us.”

You smile fondly. The both of you always fretting over Jungkook. “Me, too.”

“But then I just… stayed stuck. And I’m sorry. I knew it should be me to reach out, but I couldn’t. It took so long I didn’t know what to say. And then the wedding rolled around, and I knew this could be it. Somehow, I’d make it work here.” Yoongi stops there, tilting his head as he considers how to continue.

“But then I fucked things up again,” you fill in for him.

“I mean,” Yoongi starts. But then he shakes his head muttering to himself. He reaches to run his hands through his hair, and you reach out to stop him so he doesn’t fuck up his fancy styling. Your heart skips a beat as you finally touch him. Yoongi flinches, too, but he grabs your hand before you can pull away.

“Did you really think I could hate you forever? My best friend?” He whispers, staring at your hands.

“Yoongi,” your voice cracks. Thoughts you’d only granted yourself time to think about late at night bubbled to the surface with your old confidant. “You… I was total shit. You never spoke to me again. You rarely spoke at all about yourself or your feelings. I realized how little it felt like I knew you. I was so scared.”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi murmured.

You shake your head. “You shouldn’t be. You shouldn’t be sorry because it  _ is _ my fault. And now, now I’ve made it worse with Namjoon here--”

“Yeah, how did that happen?” Yoongi asks.

You stop, confused by how light-hearted his question sounded. No jabs, no remorse. “How did… I should be asking  _ you _ !”

Yoongi pauses, twisting your hands. It feels strange to have his hand in yours. Electrifying but the dullest kind of current. A hum so low yet it shakes your core to be close again. 

“You know,” Yoongi sighs. “I think I fought with Namjoon because he reminded me a lot of you.”

To be compared to him, you weren’t worthy. Namjoon had his shit together. Sure, his philosophical rants were annoying, but you couldn’t fathom anyone fighting with Namjoon. Granted, you just did.

“He was different back then,” Yoongi continues. “He was impatient. He spoke his mind immediately. And we fought on everything. I had just moved to the new university. But I think… I think he was part of how I stopped being mad at you. He wouldn’t let me shut down or hold things in. You and Jungkook were always so understanding of how I processed, but Namjoon was immediate. Like you were to almost everyone but me. I started to see your side.”

“But the whole…” you can’t even say it. But Yoongi picks up on what you mean.

“That was a fluke,” Yoongi grumbles, rubbing absently at his ear. “That was just sexual tension. Anger. I don’t know. We finished the project after that. I think it just needed to happen.”

“Why were you so pissed then?” You try to avoid sounding agitated.

“Because that wasn’t how I wanted things to go,” Yoongi reminds you. He squints with pursed lips. “Honestly, it just reminded me again of how much I wait for the opportune moment. You know. Soo-hyun complains about it all the time. I hold things in til I think it’s time to say something and it was just such a smack in the face that when I was ready to reconcile, he was there. He threw everything off.”

“I thought you were so mad at me,” you realize you are crying again. “Yoongi, I’ve been so scared and confused. Yesterday, I almost had another breakdown and--”

“What?” Yoongi’s whirls to you. “A breakdown?”

You laugh. It’s wet and throaty. “I’m a fucking mess.”

Yoongi cocks his head, squeezing your hand. “Really? That’s not what I expected. Especially with Namjoon, I honestly thought you guys would be good for--”

“Don’t say it,” you whisper.

“Why not?” Yoongi asks.

You duck your head. “I thought I was the one who didn’t drop things.”

Yoongi doesn’t speak. You know what’s happening. The gears are turning in his head. He’s weaving his thoughts together again. You both may speak of what you know you did wrong, but habits are hard to change.

“Jungkook said you aren’t dating?”

“I don’t date.”

“Is that because--”

“It’s because of a lot of things.”

Yoongi’s quiet again. He squeezes your hand again, but you don’t look up. You just stare at the blades of grass staining your dress.

“I’m not saying you should be with him,” Yoongi says. “Just that you are like him. And you need to give yourself more credit. And maybe stop being scared.”

“I’m not scared,” you mumble. “Why the fuck is everyone saying I’m scared.”

“You are,” Yoongi remarks. You look over to retort, but his face is so stern you remain quiet. “You are scared of a lot of things. You’re scared of mom. You are scared of being yourself. And you are scared of love. You’re scared of trusting people. I know I’m part of that. But you are a scared person, okay? And that’s okay to be scared. But sometimes we’ve got to do scary things like fucking get married because your fiancé is all fucking about it even if you just think it’s another institutionalized way we succumb to capitalist propaganda.”

You choke on a laugh in between sniffles. Yoongi’s trying to cheer you up. You’re sitting together, holding hands, and as usual, Yoongi’s cheering you up. And a voice you aren’t ready to listen to tells you that as usual, Yoongi’s right.

“Fine, I’m a scaredy-cat,” you agree. Yoongi’s here, he’s nagging you, and this is what you want. “And you are ditching your wedding party.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Fuck the wedding party.”

Your jaw drops. “Wow, and here I thought you were the same people pleaser.”

“I was not a people pleaser!” Yoongi groans. “I just considered the pros and cons of causing trouble.”

“Mhm,” you giggle. Yoongi smiles again, more genuine. His gums show as his shoulders shake with a laugh, too.

“I missed you,” he says again.

“Damn, save some of the love for your future wife,” you deflect. Yoongi pouts, squeezing your hand. “I missed you, too.”

“Can we be friends again?” Yoongi asks. His voice is so small, staring straight ahead. Your heart melts a bit, everything in you apparently turning into a watery mess. Here you are, in a situation you never thought possible. A mending fence. Never had this happened, that something broken came back together again. And it gave you an abstract kind of hope. A sense that you didn’t need to find something new in what’s broken, but find what can be salvaged.

“I think we can,” you nod. “I’m scared, but I want to be friends. I missed you, too.”

“Good,” Yoongi drops his head, rubbing at his neck and shoulders. “Oh my god, that was exhausting.”

You laugh a bit more wholeheartedly. It feels weird. It doesn’t feel like it’s true yet, that you are friends again. But you feel a bit better. Yoongi seems a bit better.

“Okay, back to your wedding,” you urge with a nod of your head.

“Ugh,” Yoongi groans, putting all his weight into your tugging hand. “Don’t make me, I’m done already.”

“Come on, super star,” you tease, finally getting the both of you to your feet. Yoongi grumbles, shoving his hands in his pockets, but he can’t hide the smile as wide as yours.

Your phone buzzes as you head towards the bathroom to fix your face.

_ Hoseok _

_ Joonie found me :X _

_ He’s coming home with me _

You clutch your phone tight.

“What is it?” Yoongi asks before heading in.

You glance up, not sure if you are ready to just step back into your relationship just yet. But still you don’t want to brush it off, either. “Namjoon went home.”

“Are you going home?” Yoongi asks with a bit of alarm.

“Why, were you going to make me stand at the altar with you?” You ask, nervously half-joking.

“God, no,” Yoongi waves off. “I just wanted to remind you I want you there. Really.”

You close your phone. That’s an issue for another time. A broken fence to consider on another day. For now, you are here with Yoongi and Jungkook. “No, I’m staying. Introduce me to your bride.”

That night, you go back to the empty hotel room. You sit on the bed and feel the silence and loneliness.

You’re scared.

You realize you need to be scared. To feel scared. To acknowledge what scares you and why.

For the first time, you embrace being alone rather than accepting it.

* * *

Okay, so maybe you were hoping to wake up with a brand new outlook on life the next morning. Maybe you thought all your problems would magically be solved. Maybe you expected your mother to call apologizing for her asshole behavior and Namjoon to be wrapped around you and Taehyung and Hoseok happily trotting off into the sunset.

Nope.

You are a tad hungover, Namjoon is gone, you can hear Jungkook snoring through the wall, and you have only just begun to reconcile with Yoongi.

Well, at least you can take joy in how pissed your mom might be that you show up without a date.

You don’t mind, though. You didn’t have some devilish misconceived notion to fuck everyone at the party. That was never your idea. You were never that person, as much as you may have demonized yourself. As you sit up in bed, you think you were just as misconstrued about yourself as you believed others to be.

But who are you then?

_ You don’t know that for sure,  _ Namjoon’s voice echoes in your head.  _ You don’t understand what you’re doing.  _

You shake your head. No, today is about Yoongi. Yoongi and his adorably tiny bride who seemed ecstatic to meet you, grass stains and all, and clamored on with a slight drunken slur how she’d wanted to come up to you all night, but Yoongi made her stay away because he wanted to say something first.

They were cute, really cute. As you get ready, you know you are genuinely happy for them.

A text from Hoseok lets you know he and Namjoon got home safe. Another text is from Jungkook saying he’ll bring you home today.

As you lay out your things for the day, you wonder if Taehyung knows. If Jungkook was notified to take you home, did Taehyung know Hoseok came? You aren’t sure. After hearing that he might be seeing things with a level mind, you almost hope he doesn’t. Hoseok did the right thing leaving.

Did Namjoon do the right thing by leaving, too?

You aren’t sure where he left things. He wants you to figure things out. No, you  _ should _ figure things out-- for you. Fuck Namjoon, he always seems to know what to say before three or four other people bash it into your skull. How the fuck did Yoongi think you two were alike?

_ He’s just a few steps ahead is all _ , Yoongi had said when the topic came up again with Jungkook last night.  _ He didn’t always have his shit together. He got comfortable with himself _ .

Could you be comfortable with yourself?

This dress sure as hell isn’t comfortable. You, Jungkook, and Taehyung look absolutely fantastic, not shocking on their part, as you walk in as a trio to the wedding. Jungkook even looks a little proud with both of you on either arm. He leaves you and Taehyung a few rows back before he runs up to the front by his dad.

“Why aren’t you going?” Taehyung asks. He looks dashing, purposefully unkempt hair actually controlled, sharp eyes softened with a bit of smudge. Still, he couldn’t do much to bring that vibrant color to his cheeks and twinkle in his eyes.

“We aren’t there yet,” you whisper back. Taehyung  _ ah _ ’s with a nod, facing front. You smile at Jungkook beaming at his father, practically bouncing in his seat. Your step-father glances back as though sensing eyes on him. Taehyung bows his head, and you give a small wave. The man smiles a bit, expression always kind, before turning forward again. Yeah, you aren’t there yet, but there is at least a  _ yet _ now.

Yoongi stumbles in, flustered as can be. Maybe most of the audience can’t tell, but you can see the way he keeps glancing at Jungkook, to his right and left, fiddling with the clasps of his suit. His eyes land on you, wild and distraught.

You roll your eyes and make a shooing motion, telling him to get on with it. It does the trick. His shoulders slacken, his smile a bit more real. He nods and gives you the tiniest thumbs up, and you really see how badly he wanted you here. How your outspokenness and inability to appreciate these things is what he needs to manage himself in a situation you both never thought you’d be in.

However, as you stand at the sound of the music, you realize how much you have all truly changed. You are all still changing. Yoongi’s beautiful bride walks down the aisle with her father. You’re at a family event on good terms with the people you care about most. Taehyung smiles sweetly next to you, healing bit by bit from the sorrow that’s wrecked him for weeks. And as the bride makes it to the altar, to a beaming yet shaky Yoongi, you even find yourself wondering if you’ll be there before you laugh at the incredulity of it.

As they speak the vows, you listen closely to your best friend’s special gift for choosing his words wisely, and it shines through at this moment. He speaks of commitment, of love, and determination and understanding. All things that scare you, all things that he found in another person. All things despite what you both have been through that he’s willing to give to you, too.

You realize what Yoongi found in her is what he finds in everyone. Love isn’t so remarkable that it beholds itself in one person on a pedestal. You can find it in anyone. It’s part of what scares you. How love was so far reaching. It’s really as simple as he speaks the words into existence. Yet, you forgot that it isn’t so simple as to be fleeting. You and Yoongi have begun reconciling. Not everything turns out that way, but is it worth it? Is the experience of trying to love and be loved worth the hardships? Of the people around you now, how many of relationships have flourished or begun to heal as opposed to those that remain broken?

Yoongi and Soo-hyun kiss. It’s soft and shy, both nervously glancing to the crowd as they break apart. Taehyung practically melts, batting at your arm rambunctiously. Yoongi and her turn then bolt down the aisle, everyone cheering. Your best friend steals one look at you with a wave, smiling brightly, and you realize for now, this is the last time you’ll see him for awhile. Clever as always, he’d opted for the party last night to avoid anything else after the wedding.

They were off on their honeymoon, and you were off to face your demons.

Jungkook nervously drums the steering wheel and his eyes flit between the rearview mirror and you. Taehyung hasn’t said much of anything from where he’s sprawled out in the backseat, you’re exhausted, and Jungkook… doesn’t talk much in general. He was elated when no one put up a fight over aux cord rights, but after 30 minutes of singing along alone, he can’t stop the nervous fidgeting.

“What is it?” You ask after the millionth side-eye.

Jungkook’s silent for a minute. “I made a group chat.”

“I know,” you say, looking at your phone void of notifications. “Shocking, seeing as you never answer your texts to begin with.”

“He answers me,” Taehyung pipes up, the first time he’s spoken unprovoked since you left the wedding. He sits stoically, elbow on the window and chin in his palm, eyes behind uncombed hair locked on nothing as the scenery and highway signs race by. It’s hard to describe the backseat as anything other than cramped, but Taehyung looks so far away. Feeling both your gazes, he finally looks away from the window with a heavy blink.

“Huh?” he asks, as if he doesn’t even remember that he spoke. 

You and Jungkook trade a worried look. You focus on Jungkook again, leaving Taehyung to his backseat bubble. “You didn’t say anything except  _ congrats _ . You could have texted Yoongi that yourself.”

“Yeah, but,” Jungkook ticks his head as he switches lanes. “Now we have a group chat again. I just was wondering if you’d use it.”

You stare down at the phone in your hand. There’s a small little bubble inside of it now. The three of you connected again. “I want to.”

Jungkook gives a small smile at that, looking proud. He squares his shoulders and places his hands at ten and two. “Cool.”

There’s a series of interchanges and stoplights to keep Jungkook occupied for a bit, letting you simply count the mile-markers as they pass by. Luckily, your brain is too spent to do much more than that, and you welcome the break from the stress of the weekend.

“No texts?” Jungkook asks. You startle, realizing at some point you’d started staring at your phone again. You didn’t mean to. You just tended to stare at the reflection of the car roof on the black surface. Not lighting up.

“No,” you remark. 

“Have you texted Namjoon?”

Wow, remember when you just mentioned that break from the weekend?

“No,” you repeat, more defensive than you intended.

Jungkook shrugs, which never happens without being followed by some kind of comment. “I was just wondering, you know, why he left. Didn’t want to press, but you know I want to know what happened.”

You sigh. What might have happened? You don’t know. Good god, after you woke up, you barely remember what you babbled on about through your meltdown. All you know is Namjoon is gone, and it’s up to you. You aren’t sure if he’s waiting for you, but he is waiting on a response. He wants you to work on you first.

So, you are more worried about what’s going to happen. Which seems to be solely in your hands now. And you’ve got as much of an idea as the blank screen in your hand does. You put it in your back pocket.

“I’m figuring some things out.”

“With Namjoon?” Jungkook asks.

“With everything I guess,” you try. Really, you still aren’t sure.

“Are you going to talk to Namjoon?” Jungkook asks.

You turn in your seat and fix Jungkook with a look. “Is that your business?”

Jungkook winces. “I mean, no, I just am worried about--”

“Jungkookie,” Taehyung’s deep voice cuts him off. “You gotta let her do it herself.”

Jungkook’s face blushes red. Now he intently stares straight ahead. “Huh?”

Taehyung sighs, straightening. He rests his head back, eyes closed. “She’s gotta figure things out for herself. No one can help, as much as you want to.”

Jungkook’s words mush together under his pout. “I wasn’t trying to--”

“Thank you, Kookie,” Taehyung interrupts again, a light smile dancing on his tired face. As you turn back, you catch the tear rolling down Taehyung’s cheek before he wipes it away, smile a bit brighter. “Thanks for trying to help, though.”

You look back at Jungkook, who is blushing with a furrowed brow. He looks torn. So you put your hand on his shoulder and repeat after Taehyung, “Thanks, Kook.”

Jungkook bites down on his lip, eyes glistening. “Shut up, I don’t know what you guys are talking about. Stop being weird.”

Taehyung snorts, and you bark a laugh. The car still feels tense, but the silence isn’t as out of place as you continue the drive home.

* * *

It feels empty.

You aren’t sure what kind of empty it is.

“The fuck does that mean?” Hoseok asks, pouring another glass of champagne. He kept buying it as a joke since you swiped the celebratory champagne, but over the last two weeks, you actually both like champagne now.

Which sucks, because it is fucking expensive.

“I mean it’s like… what kind of empty am I feeling?” you ask yourself, leaning back on your couch. You and Hoseok end up here a lot now after your shifts. Mentally letting him in seemed to be equated with physically letting him in. You secretly hoped he was relaying this information to Namjoon. The reason for the emptiness.

Are you feeling empty because all the time and space Namjoon filled is vacant or because you want Namjoon to be filling that space? And in what way do you want him to fill that space?

You drink the entire glass, hoping the answer might be at the bottom. When it’s not, you hand it right back to Hoseok for a refill.

“Wo-ow,” Hoseok sings with a shake of his head. “ _ What kind of empty _ . So introspective. Who the fuck are you?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh. You aren’t who you were. You don’t know who she was or who you are. Typical. You frown.

Hoseok bursts out laughing, kicking at you from the other end of the couch. “Bitch, it was a joke!”

“Oh,” you blink. Okay, you need more champagne. Because if you don’t keep drinking, you are going to ask Hoseok about him.

“I’m not going to tell you,” Hoseok says as though he can read your mind.

“I didn’t ask!” You retort.

“Yeah, but you are thinking about it. Miss, oh, I am empty,” Hoseok flings his arm over his brow dramatically, “oh, who am I? What is emptiness? Where is that big dick to fill the void?”

Now it is your turn to kick at him. You take your glass back and try to sit up straighter. “I’m not asking about him. I’m not asking how he’s doing or if he’s told you anything or what your thoughts are.”

“Good, because I’m not telling,” Hoseok giggles. 

“Wow, what happened to the life coach who crashed a wedding two weeks ago?” You deadpan.

“That was the same guy who thought some extravagant show of love involving a 3 hour car ride could solve all his problems,” Hoseok snorted. He waves you off with a simple, “He’s grown.”

You pause at that. “He has?”

Hoseok takes a long sip of his champagne, staring at the bottom much like you had earlier. The smile on his wet lips doesn’t reach his eyes. With a sigh, he trades his glass for the bottle. “Yeah, I think so.”

You nod, not sure what to say. There is a kind of finality you’d also sensed in Taehyung the other week in the car. Yet within seconds, Hoseok’s beaming again, asking, “Is this what it felt like for you?”

“What do you mean?” You ask suspiciously.

“Well, you were stuck between me and Tae. And now, I’m stuck between you and Namjoon,” Hoseok counts on his fingers.

“You are not  _ stuck between  _ us,” you clarify. “There’s nothing--”

“Stop right there,” Hoseok holds a hand out. “And think before you tell me nothing is going on, miss empty and tipsy.”

You snap your jaw shut. He’s right. You are working on this. You tried, really, really hard to stop deflecting. To really think about your choices. To talk to Yoongi, open up more to Jungkook, and figure some things out. Namely, where to start figuring things out.

You pick up your phone and fiddle with it while Hoseok segues from your denial to some customer who lies about his fetishes. No texts from Namjoon. No calls. No nothing. He hadn’t been joking.

You pull open the texts, the last thing being a check-in that he was coming back to the hotel room the night you were already asleep.

Do you text him? Are you ready? Ready for what? Should you call? What do you even say?

“Whatcha doin?” Hoseok asks, causing you to launch your phone off the couch. Hoseok stares at the phone then you. “Oh, honey.”

“I wasn’t!” You shout, jumping for your phone but toppling as the alcohol slows your limbs.

Hoseok laughs so hard he ends up joining you on the floor.

You end up there for the rest of the evening. Many nights now, you end up on the floor with someone, and not in the way you expected. You find yourself dragging Jungkook out of his room to video call with Yoongi, and it is more comfortable than you thought. Sometimes, you just stare at the ceiling and talk to yourself, voicing your fears and hearing how dumb they sound compared to the panic they’d caused that night in the reception hall.

Things are changing, even if you aren’t sure how. You feel like you are learning more about you by acknowledging you.

After you both finish the bottle of champagne and a few more stories, Hoseok stretches and says his goodbyes. You roll onto your back and stare at the ceiling as usual. You hold your phone above you, successfully moving to your texts after drunkenly dropping it on your face twice.

Nothing. Over two weeks, and nothing between you and Namjoon.

“Why does it hurt?” you ask yourself. In what way? Ugh, now there’s a little Namjoon in your head asking these questions.

Or maybe it’s you. Maybe Yoongi was right. Maybe, Namjoon’s just ahead of you. Maybe, someday, you’ll have your shit together. Or, like Namjoon, be okay with not having it together but figuring it out.

Figuring it out. Ugh, how exhausting.

Your limbs feel heavy as you climb onto the couch, settling in there for the night.

And it… continues like that. Ever since that night you spoke with Yoongi, you keep waiting. There had to be a grand moment, a switch, something that said  _ aha! _ Like a New Year’s resolution. A decision that pushed you in the right direction.

But that never happened. You went about each day questioning yourself, seeing your friends, and completing tasks to stay afloat. You got a new job that isn’t great. You dilly dally on the community college website. You switch off shifts between Taehyung and Hoseok. You go out with Jimin and Taehyung or stay in and pick on Jungkook’s eating habits.

And you think about Namjoon.

You think about him when you’re drunk. When you have to search through your text messages. When you find his socks that he _still_ left at your place. In the morning, sometimes you hear his voice. You remember how he looked stretched out in the hotel sheets. How he looked under you, eyebrows drawn and chest glistening with exertion. You remember his fingers digging into your thighs, whispering dirty shit in your ear. You remember your fingers brushing as you both scratch Monie’s ears, making jokes about Hoseok’s color coordinating of the shoe cupboard.

And you get to know you. You try to figure out what’s illogical or just plain fear. How you are holding yourself back or lying to yourself. You decide what is needed to stay safe and sane each day. When you need to take breaks and when you need to choose between thinking about yourself or others.

You just grow, slowly, a little bit, over the month, but not quite sure where the path is going.

But maybe, sometimes, there are small  _ aha  _ moments. Times where everything that’s built so slowly and muddied in chaos suddenly becomes the slightest bit clearer.

You and Taehyung always work the Sunday shift together now. After 15 hours together each weekend, you’d probably want a break from each other, but you never run out of topics. Currently, you discuss what to force Jungkook to cook for dinner tomorrow. The store’s been empty so long that Taehyung lounges on the couch, the third pair of neon heels dangling from one foot as you absently play with the Wartenberg wheel over your forearm.

A familiar voice calls your name when the store entrance beeps to announce new customers. Jimin waltzes in with one of his signature wide smiles on his face. At his side, ombre, wavy hair splays over his shoulder from where a woman ducks behind him, arms clutched tight around Jimin’s.

“Lucy!” Taehyung gasps, clapping his hands. He runs to the counter and leans over with a beaming smile. As Jimin gets closer, the woman peers from behind his shoulder with blushing cheeks and large, crystal blue eyes. She smiles sweetly, a small hello in a British accent taking you off guard. Jimin giggles, collapsing into the woman the same way she holds him.

“Come on, you said you wouldn’t be shy!” Jimin whines, trying to tug her out from behind him. With a huff, she stands straighter, smiling at Taehyung. “Hi, Tae.”

“Long time no see!” Taehyung sings back. Their familiarity signals that she must have been around Jimin’s place quite a lot now. 

You smile politely when she glances your way. You internally wince when you realize the only time this woman heard your voice was when you tried to bribe her boyfriend into being your date. “Hi, Lucy. Nice to finally meet you.”

Lucy smiles sweetly, taking Jimin’s hand again. “Same.”

“Lucy wants to look at the lingerie,” Jimin pipes up before dodging the incoming slap to the shoulder. Taehyung just bounces from behind the counter, taking Lucy’s arm in his and leading her with a wave into the lingerie section.

You watch the two with amusement. Taehyung picks up every other piece and holds it to Lucy who does her best not to flush at the volume he speaks at. It’s nice to see him so animated again.

“So, it’s pretty serious, huh?” You ask Jimin who looks on just as fondly.

“Yeah, she’s totally got me whipped,” Jimin sighs dramatically with a hand over his heart. With a smug side eye, he adds. “Speaking of, where are those around here?”

You roll your eyes at his dumb joke. “You’ve been in here enough to know the floorplan with your eyes closed.”

Jimin laughs, bending over the counter for support. “Fair. It is nice to come with someone I love, though. A whole different experience.”

You nod at that, that one special word having you tense out of reflex.

You fiddle with the preset tags sticking out of a drawer by the cash register. Jimin is a lot like you. Was a lot like you. Settling down just wasn’t something for either of you. Yet now… “Hey, Jimin?”

Jimin rolls over on the counter, head in hand. “Uh oh. What?”

“How did you know?”

He blinks, lips twisting in confusion. “Huh?”

“Like,” you glance at Lucy and Taehyung who seem to have settled on the panty rack for now. “How did you know she’s the one?”

“I don’t,” Jimin shrugs. He’s more distracted by the other two, licking his lips absently as Lucy ventures to pick up a few pairs herself.

“You don’t?” You ask.

At your insistence, Jimin straightens again. “I don’t know if she's the one. I don’t know if I ever will. But I’d never, ever know if I didn’t jump, you know?”

You know, but you also don’t know. “How did you know it was worth the jump? Worth the… the fall?”

Jimin gives you a sympathetic smile. He reaches for your hand where you have started to tear at the tags. “Is this about..?”

You wait a moment then glance back up at him. His eyebrows are drawn close, worry laced with the sympathy now. Jimin was considerate enough not to bring it up if you don’t, and you can tell he’s trying to refrain but wants to push. Still, you argue, “That’s not an answer.”

Jimin sighs with a shake of his head. “It’s not that I knew it was worth the jump. There was something about her. Something that made me think that if I jumped, it wouldn’t be so bad. I didn’t mind falling with her. Sure, it might crash and burn, but I’m having a great time now.”

His choice of words, the focus on the experience. Namjoon’s sullen expression flashed through your mind. You shook it away. “That’s what he said.”

“Who?” Jimin asked. That sympathy was replaced with something more knowing.

“Namjoon,” you murmured. “The experience and all that bullshit.”

Jimin chuckled lightly and turned back to Lucy and Taehyung who approached arm in arm again. “I don’t know. Doesn’t feel like bullshit to me.”

You see Jimin smile and throw his arms wide for Lucy, happy as can be. Even Taehyung seems happy, the dark circles gone from his eyes. And Hoseok comes in next, comfortable to pass hellos between him and Taehyung. You think of Yoongi, who smiled so warmly from the altar and texted you this morning. Jungkook, who still never answers you but always responds in the group text. You think on the shifts, the falling outs, the reconciliations, the moving on. What’s possible, what’s next.

What should be, what shouldn’t. What you need, what you want.

You decide to call Namjoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol look at that cliffhanger. Will she won't she??? I'm sorry.


	11. Explanation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're at the end! Please read this chapter to understand why there are two endings/13 chapters now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ!

**!!PLEASE READ!!**

You’ll notice there are now 13 chapters. If you check the titles, you’ll see they are called “Ending Option 1” and “Ending Option 2”.

That’s right, there are two different endings. I just couldn’t choose, so I’m letting you choose the ending you want for reader.

Both of these endings start with the same opening scene. If you choose to read both, you can skip to “**here**” which marks where the story deviates from the other ending.

Chapter 12, titled “Ending Option 1” is the one I think you guys want.

Chapter 13, titled “Ending Option 2” is the one I intended to write.

You guys have been so great, thank you so much. I hope you enjoy either or both endings!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also a reminder I'm on twitter now as seems to be the trend for fanic writers on here. _jupiterjoon


	12. Ending Option 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first optional ending of Hooked, the one I think you guys want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at the end! I listened to "Drunk On You" by Oh Wonder and "Belong to You" by Sabrina Claudio while writing this one.

It’s the same café you always go to. Even after you were let go from Jimin’s job, you still meet him and Taehyung here on occasion. The space had become a symbol of relaxation, a break, which you had still used as a reprieve while job searching. It’s a familiar space that has always served as a reprieve.

But now, clutching your bag on the sidewalk opposite the store front, it stands ominously close yet so far, tinted windows now blurring what lies inside for you. It’s always been that way, but now you are endowing it with the status of end or beginning. The potted plants and reflection of the city has never caught your attention until now as your mind fights to think of anything that will distract from going inside and seeing him. Of figuring this out. 

It was so much easier last time when Yoongi approached you. This is a bigger step. But it is a bigger step you need to take now. You may not have grown, but you are growing. You have to instigate this. You have to make the move.

You need to make a move. You have to do this.

“Thinking of running away?” Namjoon’s voice from behind completely throws you. A tone you’ve associated with sex, with sarcasm, with wise words. But when you turn, startled, you see the person who has been in your head smiling and ducking his head awkwardly along with the man who furrows his brow in ecstasy between your sheets, and also the one whose lips were drawn tight as he walked away. 

But now, here he is, standing next to you. You should say hi, but opt to answer his question instead with a short, “Maybe.”

Namjoon’s eyebrow rises, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He’s in loose clothes as always, looking comfortable. You wish you felt the same, everything including your clothes suddenly feeling constricting.

“Wow,” he muses. “Honesty on the first go. That’s new.”

You roll your eyes then hone in on something you can’t believe you missed before in the glaring sun. “Did you… dye your hair?”

Namjoon’s eyes widen a bit, like he’s startled to be found out as well. Then, he breaks into an easy, dimpled smile. He runs his fingers through the ice blue that almost looked blonde at first glance. 

“Yeah, had a small crisis,” Namjoon laughs awkwardly, the blue more obvious when he bows his head and shrugs his shoulders. “I coped.”

You lean onto one hip, staring up in mock-shock. “You, Namjoon, had a crisis?”

“You don’t own crises,” Namjoon sasses back.

“I didn’t have a crisis,” you argue, blushing.

Namjoon smiles knowingly. As usual. “You sure?”

“Shut up.”

“I thought we came here to talk, though,” Namjoon furrows his brow.

“I…” you huff. It’s weird. You expected these initial words to be forced and difficult. It’s weird how things feel normal when everything that has happened and will happen is not normal. Well, not normal for you. “Come on.”

You walk across the street in silence, standing in line and only trading a word or two about the menu. You’d actually never come here with Namjoon. You’d kept him as separate as possible, which now is quite fucking ironic that he was entangled in every part of your present and past.

But what about your future?

The café bustles around you as you stand idly in line and now sit at the table with both of your backs and expressions too stiff for the laid back atmosphere. Other sets of people talk on over empty coffee cups and some sit alone typing away at computers. Everyone is going about their lives, and you are going about yours. No more delaying.

“I’m sorry, um,” you laugh a little. At yourself, maybe. You clutch the coffee tighter between your hands and remember the last time you watched the deep brown ripple between your cold hands while sitting with Namjoon. Maybe coffee was a poor choice of beverage. “This is weird.”

“What?” Namjoon asks.

“Doing this part…” You shrug, not sure how to word it.

“Because you usually run away?” Namjoon inquires, leaning forward. You shoot him a glare, but his eyes don’t have that teasing twinkle. His features are neutral, if not a bit stoney.

“Hey, you weren’t so great either,” you point out. You wish it had a bit more bite to it, but your voice is so quiet.

Namjoon deflates into his seat. His dark eyes bounce around the space before landing on his twiddling fingers. “I know.”

Nerves wrack your body. It screams to get it over with, lips vibrating with the words ready to form, but your vocal chords are tied together, a jumbled mess. You take a deep, deep breath. Namjoon took a step towards admitting the truth, that you both weren’t perfect, and you needed to speak your side. For him as much as for you.

“When I met you, you said you wanted this agreement to explore things about yourself,” you start. Namjoon nods, and he crosses and recrosses his hands. “I think in a way, I need to make an agreement with myself. To explore me. To really get to know myself no matter how scary or exciting that may be. And I have you to thank for that.”

**here**

Namjoon’s eyes crinkle a bit, his smile twitching ever so slightly. Still he keeps his hands in place like he knows there’s more. He probably does. All that people-person voodoo crap.

“That’s nice to hear. I’m glad I helped you, but I think I made things worse,” Namjoon mumbles when you don’t speak again, his smile turning sad with the scrunch of his brow. “I wasn’t honest either.”

“No,” you sigh. “I mean, I didn’t help, but no, you weren’t honest. None of that at the… wedding… was expected.”

“I used to not be very honest, you know,” Namjoon begins, the sad smile dipping into a frown. “I put myself in boxes. But now, I feel free. It took a lot of work. I want to stay that way, but I thought with you, if you liked me… I didn’t want a relationship, but I felt so close to you that I might have wanted something. I should have been honest about that.”

Your breath catches. Namjoon, in his desperation that night at the reception, asked what you’d do if he liked you. It felt different to hear it this way. But somehow, the lack of surety, the idea of exploring, it’s what you needed, too. You needed to be challenged like that by someone like him.

“No, I… I tend to shatter things and give up. Like, they literally break into a thousand pieces it seems. All I do is run away from it. But, I want to try and pick the pieces back up this time. With Yoongi, with my parents…” you worry at the inside of your lip as you take a deep breath, eyes closed, “and with you. If-If you want to stick around through all that. The self-discovery stuff.”

You hear the leather of Namjoon’s seat squeak as he sits up straighter. You open your eyes to see his hands drawing inward, and a nerve of panic sparks in you. But his smile softens, spreading to his eyes more fully now. “What are you suggesting?”

Fuck, always making things hard. Pushing you. You hate it. And you really like it. You grumble at the table as you pull your hands out from where they’ve been fidgeting in your lap. “You know what I’m suggesting.”

“No,” Namjoon chides. “I think if you are going to do all this know-myself-stuff, you should say it.”

You glare across the table at that dimpled smile. Namjoon’s remark was sassy, but he reaches his hands out, palm up. Unlike last time he reached for you over a coffee table, you tentatively place your hands in his. So opposite the girl who pulled away a month ago. The warmth pulls you towards him.

It’s a different kind of energy. Jittery, excited and unsure. It’s scary, but you don’t run away. Effort, time, growth. You can have those with him, even if it ends. Because through this, already, you’ve learned so much about yourself. Even if you close a chapter, there’s still something you take with you as you turn the page.

If you trust yourself at least, you’ll be okay. If you work hard, you can trust that you trust him, too.

Your heart thunders a mile a minute, filling your chest and clawing up your throat. You know, no matter what you said, that you’d be terrified to face this so head on with anyone. But especially with him. Especially now.

“I want to try this,” you whisper, squeezing his hands.

“Okay, let’s try,” Namjoon says with a warm smile. Your heart soars in an embarrassingly delightful way, and you can’t help the dumb smile of relief on your face. Namjoon’s dimples dig in the longer you both smile.

You glance back up only a fraction of a second before Namjoon, so you catch him watching your lips. No running.

Tentatively, you lean forward, watching his face for any suggestion this isn’t right, not yet. Namjoon does the same, and when he licks his lips nervously, you tip out of your seat just a bit in nervous enthusiasm.

It’s everything you remembered but so different. The plush of his bottom lip fits snugly between your own as always, but there’s a moment where you both wait, unsure, to feel the energy. And it doesn’t come. There’s nothing but held breaths and worried thoughts.

There’s a palpable fear on the breath you exhale, only to sharply intake when Namjoon follows your lips as you come away. That’s when it happens. A sizzle of need that makes you desperate to pull the other close, only present when you thought you’d lost it. And as you kiss again, a distant feeling tightens your throat and buries in your chest, making you squeeze Namjoon’s hands as a smile bubbles on your lips at how he intently returns your kiss now.

It’s that stupid, awkward kind of joy that comes with a first kiss.

As you sit back, the balls of your feet starting to cramp, you are taken aback by the blush on Namjoon’s cheeks and the way he bites into his nervous smile. You can’t help but shrug, trying to play it off, muttering, “That was new.”

“Yeah, I get you,” Namjoon sighs with a shake of his head, like he’s in disbelief himself.

It sends another burst of butterflies clogging your throat, curling your toes and itching in your fingers laced with Namjoon’s and jumbling out in the form of, “So, do you want to--”

“Oh thank god,” Namjoon breathes, head slumping between his shoulders.

You blink for a second. “What?”

He bolts upright with eyes like saucers. “Oh, shit, I thought you were going to…”

When you say nothing, he nods his head to the door.

“Oh!” You start. “That was what I was going to say. It’s just… your reaction.”

Namjoon crosses his arms defensively. You fold your hands together, pouting at the empty feeling. Dumb, you’ve only held hands once now. Why do you want it again so bad?

“Look,” Namjoon says. “I am but a simple man.”

“Yeah,” you giggle, realizing he was that relieved you’d offered up sex.

You’d thought about it. If you needed to take a step back or not. But sex was never the problem. You both knew that. It was everything else. Intimacy of another kind. And if your regret over losing hands to hold is anything, you are definitely working through those feelings now. “I got to remember that.”

Namjoon picks up his coffee and drinks that last bit. He eyes your own, then you, then the coffee again, almost impatiently. You laugh, shaking the cup at Namjoon. “It’s a to-go cup, you know.”

“Then let’s go,” Namjoon says, grabbing your free hand and tugging you towards the door.

As you take the lead and head towards your place, Namjoon holds up your entwined hands. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” you rush. “Yeah, yeah I like it.”

“Three yeah’s,” Namjoon comments. You shove him with your empty coffee cup. “I don’t know, I just want to make sure we are both being open and giving room to be open.”

You nod, turning down the street for your complex. That’s what you need, too. “That’s right. You’ll have to teach me how to do that namjooning thing.”

“I’ll do my best,” Namjoon remarks seriously. You still feel a little nervous, but you smile up at him anyways.

“This is weird,” you say. It is weird. Things feel okay. Things were okay and then they weren’t and now they still aren’t but it  _ feels _ okay.

“Yeah, it is,” Namjoon agrees, opening the door for you after you key in the entrance. “Is it too weird?”

You think about it. No. You need to feel weird. You need to deal with the weird and get over it. It’s weird in the way it was weird to get to know Yoongi again. Weird in the way that you’re taking steps back without going backwards, only to move forward. To move you forward, with Namjoon here for now.

You turn against your door to look at him. He lazily rests a hand beside you, trying to read your thoughts. His body drifts closer and closer, and in the shitty concrete hall of the building, all you can hear is the gently increasing rate of your breathing as you think about what will happen on the other side of this door.

Don’t run away, one step at a time.

You and Namjoon reach for each other in the same moment. Like the night in the club, like the time in his kitchen, you always both seemed pulled in at the same moment. His body is firm under your hands, his palms warm against your cheeks as his lips move much more fluidly against yours now, both driven by the need to feel each other again. You nip at his lips, tongue following to soothe. Namjoon grunts tugging you to him, fingers digging into your hip.

“Door,” you mutter. Namjoon nods but doesn’t stop, kissing at the corner of your mouth. You laugh, trying to fumble with your back pocket over his arm holding you tight. You tug at his hair to get him off, but he only groans and goes harder, making you laugh more.

You finally get the keycard in and thank god it’s a push and not a pull. You hold on for dear life as you both tip backwards, still trying to frantically kiss and touch and pull, stumbling out of the entryway.

You muffle a scream when you see a man standing in the kitchen with his arm raised. Namjoon clutches you close, spooked, before turning in the same direction.

Jungkook’s taking a selfie in the kitchen with a beer in hand. He turns around from where you are both reflected on the screen. His large, sleepy eyes take you both in head to toe. He puts the beer down, holds up a peace sign, and snaps the picture. The Snapchat kk-ch sounds.

“I’m sending this to Yoongi,” Jungkook murmurs, turning around and typing away.

“You will not!” You actually shriek, moving to grab the phone but being held in Namjoon’s grasp.

“Hey Kook,” Namjoon calls.

“Hey Namjoon,” Jungkook says back with a nod, still smiling at his screen. “Glad to see you here.”

You claw at Namjoon’s arm, sending both of them a look of betrayal. Since when has Namjoon been so strong? Did the blue hair give him superpowers? “Let me go! What is happening!”

Namjoon clumsily marches towards your bedroom. “Tell Yoongi I say hi.”

Jungkook laughs but crinkles his face in disgust. He puts the beer back in the fridge as your face turns redder and redder. “Please give me five minutes to leave before whatever this is starts.”

Namjoon nods, dragging you along. “Can do.”

“Stop!” You cry out. “Don’t send that to Yoongi! Don’t tell him hey! Why is my life like this!”

“You are in control of your own fate,” Namjoon says sagely as he continues to waddle down the hall, relaxing his grip as he feels your fight die down.

“Oh, shut up,” you complain, punching at his chest. Oh shit, he has been working out. You smooth your palms over his chest.

“Gladly,” Namjoon growls into your throat, scraping his teeth along your pulse point. You ball your fists in his shirt only to tug it overhead as you move towards the bed.

Namjoon’s on top of you in seconds, body rolling into yours as your legs reflexively cling to his hips. You fight over undressing each other, Namjoon trying to pull your shirt off while you try to get his pants down. Laughing, you roll the both of you over, pulling your shirt off and yanking at his waistband.

As soon as the pants slip to his hips, Namjoon’s cock slaps to his stomach. He grunts at the release, stroking absently as you shimmy them off his legs. You want to smack his hands away and finally get your fist around that dick you’ve been dreaming about each night you fell asleep drunk on the couch, but the sight of him lazily sprawled on your pillows with strong yet delicate fingers rolling over the head has you pausing.

“You look beautiful,” Namjoon murmurs. There’s a dangerous smile on his face, lips parted from the pleasure. You give him a wink, running your hands up his hips and sitting just below where he works himself over. “Condom’s in my pocket.”

You quirk an eyebrow as you fish out the condom and hand it over. “You were confident.”

“You like it,” Namjoon quips with a wink. Fuck, he’s right.

“I’ve been dreaming of fucking you,” you murmur against his lips, fingers combing through his blue hair.

“Yeah?” Namjoon asks, pushing himself up to a sitting position once he’s got the condom on. He grabs your ass, tugging you until his dick is between your folds, rolling your hips sloppily over his cock pressed against his thigh. “What’s it like knowing you’ve got the real thing all to yourself?”

Your heart stutters at that. Not that you didn’t have it before, but this is a different kind of exclusivity. One you thankfully didn’t name yet. Something you were working towards, together.

You cup Namjoon’s cheeks, angling his lips to yours as you raise your hips. He grunts, tongue lapping into your mouth, helping you settle on his cock.

And you come right then. Your body shudders, toes cramping as Namjoon presses in and sinks deep within you. Only one shift of your hips and your entire body warms, a moan escaping before you can stop it, teeth sinking into his lip as Namjoon’s fingers dig into your skin at the way you clench around him, body rocking to chase the electric feeling erupting from within. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moan again and again, rocking harder. It had been too long. You’d worked yourself up so much over this that it must have just burst.

“Did you seriously just come?” Namjoon all but gasps, watching you roll your hips slower, setting a pace as you come back down.

You cup the nape of his neck, starting to bounce, smiling shyly. “It’s been awhile. I was excited. Don’t talk about it.”

“You were-” Namjoon hisses between his teeth. He rolls his head back against the wall and you suck at his neck, missing the taste of his skin and not wanting to let go now that you’ve got his skin between your teeth.

“Don’t talk about you coming just from this dick?” Namjoon barks a laugh when you tug at his scalp . “Holy fuck, I can’t believe you. Well, now that that’s out of the way…”

You yelp, body feeling like a doll as Namjoon throws you to your back again. He fits the back of his knee into your elbow. Your back arches and fingers dig into skin when he rolls his hips into yours. He buries his face in the nape of your neck, hot breath panting where sweat already dampens your skin, pumping into you. You claw at his back, body already coiling for another orgasm.

“Fuck, Namjoon, please,” you gasp.

“Say it again,” Namjoon breathes against your temple. “Say my name.”

“Namjoon,” you groan, back arching just to feel him deeper. He pulls back, drawing out just to push the tip in, watching you. You pout up at him, rolling down, but he holds your hips with thumbs digging into your hip bones. You tug at your own hair, desperate for release again already. “Joon, fuck, Joon.”

Namjoon hums with a tilt of his head, smile looking breathless as he sinks deeper but slower. “You really mean it? When you say my name?”

“Yes,” you all but cry out. You grap at the thickest parts of his thighs, trying to draw him closer. “Fuck me before I throw you on the floor and fuck myself.”

Namjoon groans, dropping back to his elbows. You yelp as your hips ride up with him but all but sob when he hits the perfect angle again and again. You reach for Namjoon’s lips, tugging him into you, and you can’t believe how nice it feels to have your tongue against his, the stickiness of your skin making the movements rough.

You lose focus as Namjoon’s hips pick up, his kisses becoming sloppy and more like the trading of labored breaths. Your breath catches on his name, body curling tight around him as your second orgasm races through you, faster, more intense, practically vibrating as Namjoon curses against your lips, eyebrows drawn and jaw locked as he follows soon after.

Unlike before, you lay there with no need to rush, stroking his arms and tattooed ribs. Eventually, he groans as he rolls onto his back, snapping off the condom. It’s quiet, no traffic or noisy neighbors at this time in the afternoon. Just the sound of your breaths settling in your chests.

“So,” you ask, rolling onto your side. “What was your least favorite class in high school?”

“Uh,” Namjoon wipes the sweat from his brow. “What?”

“Come on!” You nudge him with your toes, feeling awkward. “I’m Namjooning.”

“Oh, should I be you?” Namjoon asks. He moves to sit, wiping his expression. “Hey, can you leave?”

“This is my bed!” You say, smacking his shoulder but still feeling bad.

“Oh, true,” Namjoon starts to roll over.

You latch onto his arm, holding him close. You’re mad at the nervousness that clutches your heart, so you bury your face into his shoulder and mumble, “Shut up and tell me your least favorite high school class.”

Namjoon relaxes, dropping to the bed and wiggling into place comfortably. With a deep sigh, he picks up your hand and starts to fiddle with your fingers. “Math.”

“Which math?” you ask.

“Statistics,” Namjoon curls his lip.

“Maybe that’s why Yoongi thought we were meant to be,” you consider.

“Are you going to bring your brother up right now?” Namjoon asks.

“He’s not my brother,” you sass. “Plus, you were the one who said--”

You squeal as Namjoon rolls you both over, smothering you in kisses to cut you off. He settles his weight between your legs, resting his temple against his free hand. His eyes are dancing with mischief when he says, “Did you know you are actually annoying most of the time?”

“Yeah,” you shrug with no remorse. You loop your arm around his waist to keep him there. “This is the real me.”

“You say that like you weren’t annoying before,” Namjoon muses. You kiss him again when he starts to smile.

“You want to deal with it?” You ask teasingly between kisses, but you feel your heart pull, laid bare under him, asking if he wants to stay.

Namjoon lets his lips linger on yours, fingers threading through your hair before he deepens the kiss. “Yeah, if you’ll deal with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts, and if you read both, which you liked more :D


	13. Ending Option 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second optional ending of Hooked, the one I intended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at the end! I listened to "Complicate" by J. Razzi and "Again" by Sasha Sloan while writing this one.

It’s the same café you always go to. Even after you were let go from Jimin’s job, you still meet him and Taehyun here on occasion. The space had become a symbol of relaxation, a break, which you had still used as a reprieve while job searching. It’s a familiar space that has always served as a reprieve.

But now, clutching your bag on the sidewalk opposite the store front, it stands ominously close yet so far, tinted windows now blurring what lies inside for you. It’s always been that way, but now you are endowing it with the status of end or beginning. The potted plants and reflection of the city has never caught your attention until now as your mind fights to think of anything that will distract from going inside and seeing him. Of figuring this out. 

It was so much easier last time when Yoongi approached you. This is a bigger step. But it is a bigger step you need to take now. You may not have grown, but you are growing. You have to instigate this. You have to make the move.

You need to make a move. You have to do this.

“Thinking of running away?” Namjoon’s voice from behind completely throws you. A tone you’ve associated with sex, with sarcasm, with wise words. But when you turn, startled, you see the person who has been in your head smiling and ducking his head awkwardly along with the man who furrows his brow in ecstasy between your sheets, and also the one whose lips were drawn tight as he walked away. 

But now, here he is, standing next to you. You should say hi, but opt to answer his question instead with a short, “Maybe.”

Namjoon’s eyebrow rises, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He’s in loose clothes as always, looking comfortable. You wish you felt the same, everything including your clothes suddenly feeling constricting.

“Wow,” he muses. “Honesty on the first go. That’s new.”

You roll your eyes then hone in on something you can’t believe you missed before in the glaring sun. “Did you… dye your hair?”

Namjoon’s eyes widen a bit, like he’s startled to be found out as well. Then, he breaks into an easy, dimpled smile. He runs his fingers through the ice blue that almost looked blonde at first glance. 

“Yeah, had a small crisis,” Namjoon laughs awkwardly, the blue more obvious when he bows his head and shrugs his shoulders. “I coped.”

You lean onto one hip, staring up in mock-shock. “You, Namjoon, had a crisis?”

“You don’t own crises,” Namjoon sasses back.

“I didn’t have a crisis,” you argue, blushing.

Namjoon smiles knowingly. As usual. “You sure?”

“Shut up.”

“I thought we came here to talk, though,” Namjoon furrows his brow.

“I…” you huff. It’s weird. You expected these initial words to be forced and difficult. It’s weird how things feel normal when everything that has happened and will happen is not normal. Well, not normal for you. “Come on.”

You walk across the street in silence, standing in line and only trading a word or two about the menu. You’d actually never come here with Namjoon. You’d kept him as separate as possible, which now is quite fucking ironic that he was entangled in every part of your present and past.

But what about your future?

The café bustles around you as you stand idly in line and now sit at the table with both of your backs and expressions too stiff for the laid back atmosphere. Other sets of people talk on over empty coffee cups and some sit alone typing away at computers. Everyone is going about their lives, and you are going about yours. No more delaying.

“I’m sorry, um,” you laugh a little. At yourself, maybe. You clutch the coffee tighter between your hands and remember the last time you watched the deep brown ripple between your cold hands while sitting with Namjoon. Maybe coffee was a poor choice of beverage. “This is weird.”

“What?” Namjoon asks.

“Doing this part…” You shrug, not sure how to word it.

“Because you usually run away?” Namjoon inquires, leaning forward. You shoot him a glare, but his eyes don’t have that teasing twinkle. His features are neutral, if not a bit stoney.

“Hey, you weren’t so great either,” you point out. You wish it had a bit more bite to it, but your voice is so quiet.

Namjoon deflates into his seat. His dark eyes bounce around the space before landing on his twiddling fingers. “I know.”

Nerves wrack your body. It screams to get it over with, lips vibrating with the words ready to form, but your vocal chords are tied together, a jumbled mess. You take a deep, deep breath. Namjoon took a step towards admitting the truth, that you both weren’t perfect, and you needed to speak your side. For him as much as for you.

“When I met you, you said you wanted this agreement to explore things about yourself,” you start. Namjoon nods, and he crosses and recrosses his hands. “I think in a way, I need to make an agreement with myself. To explore me. To really get to know myself no matter how scary or exciting that may be. And I have you to thank for that.”

**here**

You gather yourself, giving Namjoon any chance he wants to interrupt, to take his turn to explain his side. But he already did, that night in the reception hall. It’s up to you. He left it up to you.

“I just don’t want a relationship right now,” you almost whisper.

“What is this relationship idea you have?” Namjoon asks, voice only a bit louder than yours. “Maybe that’s not the relationship you need. Maybe we don’t fit the normal relationship.”

You chew on your cheek. You weren’t expecting this. You did expect any push from Namjoon, if that’s what you could call this. The unpredictability, the lack of control, that’s what has scared you most. The nerves mount when you look up and see his imploring expression, palms flat on the counter. You can’t help but ask, “You’re telling me you want some kind of relationship?”

Namjoon looks at you. The blacks of his soft eyes flit between your own. Then, he leans back, eyes drifting from you to his hands twiddling on the table. “I wasn’t honest with myself.”

Namjoon doesn’t say anything else for a bit. He worries at his own cheek. You think of how to fill the void, trying not to think or run or change your mind. “Yoongi said we are alike.”

Namjoon smiles a bit, albeit sadly. “Yeah, we probably are. I wasn’t… I wasn’t always me. This person you think knows everything. I was really scared. I wanted things to fit into boxes. But now, I feel free. I like being free. I want to stay that way.”

You nod. You know that feeling in a way. Freedom can be safe. It can be lonely, and it could be a lie. You now know that.

Namjoon takes a shuddering breath. “Damn, but you know, I don’t think I’ve changed as much as I thought. With you, I liked what we had. But I could tell you were holding back. I knew something else was going on. I wanted to push you to figure it out, but really, I don’t think I knew what I wanted to do. I think I wanted you, but I wasn’t sure myself. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, clenching your fists as a way of grabbing onto anything. It has to be yourself, you guess, to avoid grabbing onto a distraction. “It’s okay, I still don’t know what to do.”

Namjoon glances up at that, hand twitching towards your own, but then he balls his fist as well. “You don’t?”

You close your eyes, trying to breath. You smell the coffee, the scents sifting through the air, and the soft smell of earth so keen to Namjoon. You remember your resolution. “I don’t know what to do, but I want to work on it. I need to work on some things, and I don't think I should have someone around while I try. Not the same way I blocked people out before, but not sexually. Not with a vice. I need to work on me with me.”

Namjoon licks at his lips, sucking them back in. He takes a deep breath that shudders through his shoulders on the exhale, eyes starting to twinge pink. You look away, but you appreciate that he’s letting you speak. Making you speak by not talking.

“I think I can start by doing this right. By ending this right. And letting everything else move on.”

“So,” Namjoon breathes after a moment. There’s another long stretch of silence as he flexes his fingers. He watches them, fliting through the air as they always do when he’s trying to form his thoughts, but none come except the question, “We’re ending this?”

“Yes,” the word cracks a bit like your vocal chords fight against you. You sniff, trying to hold yourself together. “But, I don’t want to end us. Just not this. Not the sex. Maybe someday but not now. I want to get to that point of being free and being okay with not knowing. I want to keep facing things head on, like this.”

“I understand,” Namjoon nods slowly. He pulls his hands into his lap, resigned. “I’m glad you did this.”

“I’m glad you did, too,” you say. And you mean it. Without Namjoon pushing you, you aren’t sure you would have gotten to this point. You may not need him, but you needed him. Someone to walk away with the door left open. Something that was fragile but not yet broken.

You quickly wipe at your nose when Namjoon does the same. He gave you the space to come to this conclusion and move past it. You wanted to leave a door open, just not this one. You hope you’ll both walk out of this on the other side.

“Thank you,” you say with a smile, feeling a tear slip down your cheek.

Namjoon’s brow furrows against the emotion threatening to seize his features, shifting towards you. “Thanks, too. I mean it.”

* * *

Two Months Later

The line for the coffee shop is out the door. You groan internally, twisting through the tables outside to reach the end of the line. Good god, why on earth did all these yuppies have to move into the area but still attend the cheapest coffee shop in town? Don’t they have the funds for $14 lattes in their office buildings?

You check your watch. You still have an hour until you need to open  _ The Pink Lady _ . There’s no way waiting on coffee could take an hour, right?

Well, fate tests you as you are finally within range of the counter after 25 minutes. You text with Jimin absently about the trip he and Lucy just took to New York City. Apparently, Jimin had convinced her to go to all the underground sex toy stores just to send pictures to you and Hoseok as “research” for the second location. You forward them to Hoseok, telling him that this is  _ not _ what you will do with the store when you are appointed manager.

You smile when a familiar fluffy face pops up in your notifications. As you finally place your order at the counter and step to the side, you open Namjoon’s message to see Monie sitting pretty in front of a row of plants in Namjoon’s bedroom.

_ Namjoon _

_ I told him his fave petsitter is coming over this weekend _

_ Look at the happy face _

You can’t help but  _ awh _ audibly, Monie’s pink tongue draping out of his mouth with his head cocked to the side. You shoot back a quick message concerning the details while Namjoon’s out of town and wish him a safe trip.

“Café latte plain with skim milk?” The barista calls out, adding your drink to the stack already amassing on the counter. With a sigh of relief, you reach forward just as someone else does as well.

“Oh,” you squeak. The hand is attached to an embarrassingly familiar face. More than the face, you take in broad shoulders that you remember running your hands over, plump lips you sunk your teeth into, and soft eyes that had pulled you in at a bar months ago.

“Ah,” he says, cheeks blushing. “Hi there.”

“Sorry, did you order first?” You ask, waving to the coffee frantically as you try to regain your wits.

He shakes his head, smiling bashfully. “Actually, I ordered after you. I saw you in front of me. And then I was looking for you, and woops! You are right here.”

He laughs awkwardly. It’s a strange, stilted sound. You can’t help but laugh along. “It’s, uh, Jin. Remember?”

“Of course!” You almost shout, wondering why you can’t seem to control your surprise. How could you forget that ridiculous pun?

Jin’s eyes alight, his whole face seeming to brighten in a way that has your chest tightening a bit. Gosh, he’s even gorgeous in the daylight. “Sorry, I just… I want to say sorry.”

“You just did,” you point out.

“Oh, well,” you are both interrupted as another coffee is brought over with your same order. You both take a moment to pick up your drinks, take the caps off, and check the inside. You giggle at how you seem to share the same drink and habit.

You take a step, but Jin does, too. You almost step again, but so does he, so you both awkwardly stand there, not sure who should move. Jin twists his lips before he steps aside for you, continuing quietly, “I just want to say sorry for that night. It felt a little, I don’t know, weird? Maybe it was me. But anyways, wasn’t my best, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, that was me,” you blurt out before you think better. Did you really just pull the  _ it’s not you, it’s me _ card? Someone waiting catches on to the nature of your conversation, so you nod at Jin to follow you outside. The time by the door lets you know you need to pick up the pace, so you turn in the direction of the store before realizing Jin is following in toe.

“You’re going this way?” you check, hopefully to continue the conversation on the go.

“I can be,” he says with another smile. You don’t understand how it’s somehow to genuine yet striking.

You blush then continue to walk. “Anyways, I was going through some shit. So it was totally me that night. I was just trying to figure some stuff out and you got caught in the crossfire.”

Jin hums in response, taking a sip of his drink. You pause and bite your tongue. “Shit, that sounded bad, I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” Jin waves you off, blushing as well. “We’ve all been there. Lots of people picking up people in the club usually have specific reasons.”

“Yeah,” you trail off, wondering just where Jin is going as he keeps on beside you.

“So did you figure it out?” he asks after a moment. You glance over. He’s watching you, sipping his drink.

You did. You still are. You figured out a lot thanks to all those moments a few months ago. Namjoon, Yoongi, your dumbass friends. They all helped you start to help yourself. To be comfortable enough where you were to head to where you want to be. You smile. “Yeah, I think I did.”

“That’s great!” Jin says then stops. You turn back to ask what’s wrong when he asks, “Then, is it weird if I want to ask you out?”

Your feet trip. He reaches out to steady you with a warm, firm hand. You suddenly remember that you have not only slept with this man but also used him as a fantasy with someone else before. God, you hope he can’t read minds. Apparently not, because he’s misreading the shock and guilt on your face.

“I just couldn’t get over the fact that it wasn’t my best, you know?” Jin laughs awkwardly then winces. “Not saying that’s the only reason. Actually, well, it’s dumb. You laughed at my joke that night? You were the only person.”

“The gin joke,” you recount again. He beams at that.

“Yes, the gin joke. I’d just really like to, I don’t know, prove myself. I got a different vibe from you than I was expecting--”

“Ah, yeah,” you interrupt, remembering the pausing and fumbling that night. “I kind of did for you, too.”

There’s an odd pause where Jin’s ears turn beet red. He quickly looks away and clears his throat. “So, dinner?”

You think on it. You hold the warm coffee in your hand and feel the same warmth on your shoulder from his grip. There’s nothing frightening or foreboding in the racing of your heart or the nervousness in his eyes.

You’re ready, you think. After everything, you’re ready for an experience. You aren’t afraid anymore to try this. You can handle it, wherever it goes. You just need to jump.

“Yeah, dinner sounds nice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, that's the end. Thank you all for sticking around, for sending encouraging, keyboard-smashing, or heart-felt responses on the chapters. Thank you to those of you who read it in one sitting. Thanks to anyone who even started this over a year ago. Thank you.  
> Let me know your thoughts, and if you read both, which you liked more :D


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